


Who's Gonna Carry Me?

by artlesscommerce



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Best Friends, Breakup, Emotional Manipulation, Fights, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Toxic Relationship, financial abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22481011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artlesscommerce/pseuds/artlesscommerce
Summary: Angel Dust and Husk want to love each other. Drugs, alcohol, harsh words, and the general inconveniences that come with living in Hell get in the way. Multichapter.
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 269





	1. The W-Word

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. So in this story Angel is way more exclusive, so Val has a vested interest in keeping him at least a little happy. The Smucker's thing is oviously from that one livestream lol. And finally this chapter is structured kind of weirdly just to show what their relationship is like and all that before we jump in.

"I'm sorry, I'm friggin' sorry!"

They were fighting again. 

"You shouldn't've asked in the first place!"

Drunk Husk and high Angel weren't friends. They fought a lot, especially lately.

"Well, it's too late, now, so you might as well get over it. It's not like I'm gonna bring it up again."

Husk was pacing around the room, shoulders hunched. He needed to move around, let the booze flow evenly through him. 

"Damn right you won't." 

Angel glared. "Don't talk to me like that."

"What're you gonna do about it?" 

"Oh, please! I've beaten tougher cookies than you with two arms tied behind my back - literally!" He was shaking. No he wasn't. Was he? He felt like it. He'd give anything to be still.

"Yeah, I'll bet." His words were slurring. The whole sentence was just one continuous sound. He took another swig of whatever was in his glass. Why he even bothered using a cup rather than drink straight from the bottle was a mystery.

"Could you at least drink some pineapple juice too, or something? This is why your baby gravy always tastes like shit." Angel's eye was twitching hard. He licked the inside of his lip, looking for any remaining traces of drugs.

"That's from your fuckin' cooking."

"Fuck you!"

"Why don't'cha just fuckin' scram?"

"No!"

"I'm sick of you, get the fuck outta here!"

_ "No!" _

"I'm sick of lookin' at you tonight!" Why was he yelling?

"Oh, 'cause that's all I'm good for, right? Being ogled?" Why was he yelling back?

"Damn right! And you're barely any good for that, shaking like a little junkie leaf. You make me sick, it's gross!"

"Fine!" Angel stood. "If I'm shaking, it's only 'cause I need a fix to deal with your fucking bullshit."

"Yeah, 'cept you're just as broke as I am, so good luck."

"Oh, believe me, I ain't broke!" He grabbed his jacket and purse.

"Yeah, go slut it up like you always do. Don't come back cryin' to me,  _ sweetheart!" _

"Don't worry, I won't,  _ darling!" _ He strode out the door of Husk's room, only pausing to say, "Oh, and by the way, 'sluts' don't get  _ paid." _

He heard Husk throw his glass at the wall, heard the liquid splash and the cup shatter all over. He hoped Husk would forget about it, and end up tearing up his feet on the razor sharp glass when he got up to piss later. Sometimes, he genuinely hated that cat.

All they did was fight. Lately, it was hard to remember why they even bothered.

Angel didn't go back to the hotel until the wee hours of the morning. He stumbled up to his room to face the comedown, only to find Husk sitting on the floor, leaning on the door to his room, passed out waiting for him.

He let the cat fall backward when the door opened and stepped over his stunned body. Silently, he cleaned himself up with a wipe, while Husk lit a cigarette and climbed into bed. When Angel laid down - naked, so Husk could see evidence of how he'd let himself be used by his client all night - he noticed Husk's smell. Less boozy than it had been before. He must be nearly sober by now...but of course, Husk never  _ quite _ made it there.

Husk pulled Angel in and spooned him. He kissed the hickeys on his boyfriend's shoulders and neck, and pet him gently as they fell asleep together. Tomorrow they'd wake up and pretend nothing happened. Well, that's what Husk always did, so Angel followed his lead, but he knew that there'd come a time when one of them said something the other simply couldn't forget. As it was, every time Husk smiled at him, Angel saw flashes of the angry, drooling man he turned into in the evenings. Every time Husk said something sweet, Angel remembered the horrible things that voice was capable of. And every time he reached for him, though he'd never laid a hand on Angel maliciously, he fought the urge to recoil.

He should stop letting Husk get away with it. Even his clients had limits to the amount of degradation they were allowed - for example, if "the w word" was uttered, everything stopped right then and there. More than once, Angel considered going crying to Valentino and sic the roach on Husk, but that'd mean admitting he was shacked up with one of Alastor's men. He wasn't that desperate, yet. 

Husk groaned as Angel began to pull away. The afternoon light was shining through the curtains, and he squinted against it.

"Stay here, babygirl, you smell like Heaven."

"You sure don't."

"How do you know, asshole? You don't even have a nose." He bit the little bump on Angel's face where his nose would be.

"I have my ways."

"Bullshit," he grumbled, but he let go. Husk's demeanor walked a fine line. He had the capacity to be playful, still crass and rude, but in an affectionate sort of way. He was an asshole, absolutely, but so was Angel. On the flip side, Husk was the cruelest man in the world, capable of ripping anyone and anything to shreds with words more effectively than he could with fangs or claws. Too often, lately, Husk had been the latter.

"I'm gonna get breakfast."

Husk covered his ears. "Don't mention food."

"Eggs and toast."

"Shut up!"

"Maybe a bagel with cream cheese."

Husk's stomach grumbled, and, eyes wide, the cat shot to the bathroom and began retching. It gave Angel a bit of satisfaction to see him wrestling with a hangover. But for some reason, he mostly just felt bad.

Angel was seated at the counter, leaning on a hand, eating dry cereal straight out of the box when Charlie entered.

"Angel! You're up early." 

It wasn't early - it was lunchtime for normal people.

"Yeah, for me, anyway."

Charlie paused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What? Nothing."

"You're not smiling even a little bit."

"I'm in Hell, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but you get excited over the simplest things. Like car windows without hand cranks."

"Are you ever gonna let that go?"

"If you tell me what's wrong, I'll consider it!" She sat on the stool next to Angel. "C'mon, what's up?"

Angel sighed. He was well aware that she saw this as nothing more than an opportunity to therapize him, but he really could use someone to bounce this situation off of...plus, opening up would definitely get him some progress points in Charlie's book.

"Well...There's this guy."

Charlie lit up like a Krampus tree. "Do you like him? Is he cute? Is he taller than you?"

Damn, maybe the little broad really did care!

"No, no, and  _ Hell _ no. Well, maybe yes to the first one, I just…What do you do when someone's just  _ mean?" _

"Well, how do you deal with rude customers?"

"They're clients, and I shoot them."

"Oh."

"Y'know what? Maybe that's just the thing to -"

"Do not shoot anyone!  _ Please!" _

He held two hands up in surrender. 

"How's he mean? Backhanded compliments?" This seemed typical of Angel's audience - the wealthiest, most entitled demons.

"I wish! He just yells and gets crazy when…Y'know."

"Does he...have substance abuse problems?"

"Maybe."

"Well, that's easy!"

Angel cocked an eyebrow.

"Tell him you're not going to engage with him until he's calm and sober."

"I can't just ignore him! That'll make him blow up even more."

"No, don't ignore him.  _ Tell him _ that you'll only speak to him once he's calm and sober. And you have to be really neutral when you say it, or it won't work. And tell him that if it's not worth waiting to talk about, it's not worth talking about in the first place!"

Angel blinked. How had he never thought of that? Well, keeping his mouth shut and staying levelheaded had never come naturally to him… 

"That's actually good advice."

"I know! And once you get your relationship sorted out -"

"It's not a relationship."

"- You should tell him he's welcome to stay here to get help with his addiction!"

"Oh, he knows." 

Their relationship was a secret - that was part of what made it so delicious - so Angel used the opportunity to sit as far away from Husk as possible that night at dinner. The cat wouldn't be able to object without causing a scene. 

He felt a claw on the back of his neck, and turned. Husk nodded toward the two empty seats at the end of the table. Angel ignored him. He should give him a chance, he was trying…But attitude won out.

Husk scoffed and took a seat. He took a flask from his pocket and spiked his glass of water. Everyone noticed, but no one said anything.

Husk was unusually talkative that evening. Any time he made a joke or quip, he looked expectantly at Angel, but the spider refused to give him the satisfaction of a smile. He knew that in just a few moments they'd be upstairs, either fucking or fighting, so why bother with niceties?

They used to be thick as thieves, at first. It was fun. What happened?

Angel took a bite of chicken and tried to calm his pessimism. There was no reason they couldn't go back to normal. Everyone had rough patches and bad moods, after all. If Husk acted up again, he'd just use Charlie's advice.

Alastor wiped his mouth and said, "How was dinner, everyone? I tried something a little different this evening!"

Husk replied, "Jambalaya, Al? Oh, I haven't had this in ages!"

Angel met Husk's eyes, and allowed a small smile. The look on Husk's face, you'd think he'd just won the lottery. He obviously wasn't listening to Alastor's spiel about the new spice profile he'd debuted. He finished his glass of water with a triumphant smirk.

They met upstairs sometime later, and they kissed for awhile, but Husk couldn't get it up. Angel certainly didn't mind. They laid together on Angel's bed, watching some shitty TV. Husk wanted to cuddle into Angel's chest, but that stupid pig was in the way. 

"Baby…" He trailed his claws over Angel's thigh.

"I thought you couldn't, tonight."

"Just 'cause I can't fuck you don't mean we can't do stuff. If you want to."

Angel hesitated, but he was bored, and Husk was a tasty little bastard. And skilled at oral, even with a sandpaper tongue and fangs. He spread his legs.

Husk kissed the soft fur of Angel's thighs. The spider leaned back into the pillows and shut his eyes. He didn't notice Fat Nuggets turn and nuzzle the top of Husk's head.  Husk nudged the pig away as he massaged Angel's balls with the pads of his paws. Angel was already sighing contentedly.

Fat Nuggets bumped Husk again for attention. Again, Husk nudged him away. 

He licked from the base of Angel's cock to the tip, savoring the little shudder it drew from him. Again, he nudged the pig away with the top of his head. 

Angel let out a little hum when Husk licked the tip, and a moan when he took it into his mouth. 

That gross-ass pig was in the way again. 

Husk reached an arm up and pushed Fat Nuggets off of Angel. Unfortunately, the little guy lost his balance and ended up slipping off the bed altogether. He landed on his feet, surprised but unhurt. 

_ "NUGGIES!" _ cried Angel. He hopped to the floor and cradled the pig in his arms. "My chubby nuggie baby!"

"He's fine."

Angel turned on Husk, enraged. "Never put your stupid fucking claws on him again, you sick bastard!"

"It's a fucking pig."

"And you're a fucking cat, but I still give you the benefit of not pushing you off of  _ ledges!" _

"He fell three feet!"

"He's a baby, what if he'd hit his head?!"

"Well, it's not like he can get any dumber."

_ "He's so fucking smart!" _

"Jeez, what do you want me to do, apologize to the fucking pig?!"

"And to me!"

"Okay, I'm sorry you're such a crazy bitch."

Angel made one of his spider sounds, a  _ scree _ of annoyance, and his fur puffed up.

"Get out, you drunk fuck." 

"I  _ wish _ I was fuckin' drunk." He got up and left, no doubt to quench his thirst.

Angel curled up and pet Fat Nuggets protectively. It was a few minutes before he remembered Charlie's advice about staying calm and disengaging once emotions ran too high. He'd failed miserably. 

Whatever, there'd be plenty of other fights.

Angel flexed his tired hand. He'd been answering fan mail from premium members all day. He didn't understand why the old-timey demons couldn't use fucking email. He typed responses on a typewriter, then had to go through the pile and sign his signature one by one.

He was in his dressing room at the studio, and he could hear filming going on above him, and people chatting and having fun on either side. He comforted himself with the thought that the reason  _ he _ didn't have free time was because he was a star. 

_ Dear Francis, _

_ Thank u so much for ur sweet letter! Fans like u keep me going. Stay gorgeous! _

_ Wuv, _

_ Angel Dust.  _

This letter had come with a picture, and the demon was fucking cute. He'd almost written, "Come see me in person sometime!" but remembered Husk. The cat only had one rule when it came to Angel's work: he never wanted to meet or lay eyes in any of the clients. He didn't care how much sex Angel had or how many people he did it with. He didn't want to know. But still, encouraging this guy was a  _ bit _ much.

Oh, it'd serve Husky right, though. But he couldn't help but think of the cat's little smile...

He drew a few little hearts in the margins and hoped Francis had the brains to take the hint.

A few letters later, he was done signing. It was time to put them all into envelopes, seal them, address them, add stamps, then toss 'em down the mail chute.

He'd give anything for an assistant of his own to do this - he was the bread and butter of the studio, after all - but he had to do it himself. Val's orders. Apparently people paid big money for Angel's letters. And photos. And posters. And used garments, especially ones he wore in his movies.

He guessed his weekly allowance was a cut of that income, but probably not much. 

When he'd finally finished his task, he headed to Val's office. Most of the actors reported to managers or directors, but Angel was Val's personal pet project. 

He knocked on the door.

"Not now!"

"It's me."

"God. Alright." 

Angel entered gingerly; evidently, Val wasn't in the best mood. He was typing furiously on his laptop.

"I got those letters done." 

"Good, they need to go out today. Don't you have a date tonight?"

"Uh-huh. At the steakhouse."

"Right. I heard you went out with some guy for free last night, like a slut."

"He was a client from a couple weeks ago, we both had a good time so I thought -"

"Don't think, Angel Cakes, you're not good at it." He finally looked at Angel. "Don't you realize what happens when a product is abundant?"

Angel restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He'd gotten this speech so many times before. 

"It gets -"

"It gets cheap, my little Angel. We need you nice and scarce and  _ expensive." _

"So, what, I'm just always on the clock then?"

"If you're gonna skank it up, stick to the same dick or two.  _ Maybe _ three. But if you get a reputation for bein' easy?" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "You're outta here. Worthless. You're a call girl, sweetness, not a hooker."

Angel nodded. "I'll be more careful."

"Good boy." He opened a desk drawer and took out a joint. "Here, smoke this before your date, he was a professor. Or maybe a high school teacher? All I know is that he was fucking his students. Point is, he probably wants all your stupid faux-philosophical blunt thoughts."

Angel tucked the joint into his fluff. "Thanks, Daddy."

His shift was short that night - evidently, the student-fucking hadn't increased the man's stamina. He was in the bath smoking Val's joint when Husk came upstairs.

"You closed the bar already?"

"Wasn't exactly hoppin'." He opened the bathroom door. "You almost done?"

"Why?" His encounter with the teacher had left him feeling most unsatisfied. He hoped Husk had something frisky in mind. 

"I gotta shit."

Oh.

"I don't wanna get up." He closed the shower curtain around the tub and turned up the volume on his phone. "Just go."

"I really will, y'know."

Angel laughed. "Go ahead, I'm not lookin'!"

"Fine." 

The bastard actually did it, too. Disgusting motherfucker. He must've been hammered. Angel laughed his ass off when he heard a flush. 

"A million fuckin' toilets in this place, and you actually used the one right next to me!"

He saw Husk pause while rinsing his hands. 

"Damn it, I didn't even think of that."

A few minutes later, Angel climbed into bed, freshly blow dried. The room was hazy with pink candlelight and rose incense, as well as the vague sound of the TV. Husk pulled him onto his lap, letting Angel rest his face in his neck, and wrapped his wings and a comforter over the two of them. Nothing could ruin this, right?

"What'd you have for dinner?" asked Husk.

Angel tensed up. Good things never came from Husk asking about his dates. The cat tried not to be jealous, but…He was a simple man.

"Steak and lobster."

"What'd he have?"

"I don't remember."

"Any good?"

"Eh, the mashed potatoes weren't bad, but the other stuff could use some improvement."

"I meant the guy."

Angel shifted uncomfortably. Even if Husk didn't have a jealous streak, that'd be an inappropriately invasive question.

"C'mon. Why do you wanna know?"

"Just curious."

"You're the best I've ever had, Husky."

"So he  _ was _ good."

"That's not what I said. C'mon, I don't wanna talk about work." 

"Fine."

He turned and looked up at Husk. "It's just my job, honey. Seriously."

"Yeah. Right."

Angel tried to focus on the TV, but Husk's purrs weren't right. They were more like growls. In the first few months of their relationship, Angel took the time to walk Husk through the hard parts of dating a sex worker, such as jealousy, infidelity, or safety concerns. By now, though, it was getting old. He tried to nuzzle into Husk's chest, but when the cat went rigid, he gave up.

"Relax, why don't'cha?"

"Fuck off."

"Babe, c'mon."

"Quit  _ c'mon-ing _ me! Is that how you talk to your clients?"

Angel had no patience for that. They were having such a good time, why'd Husk have to spoil it like always?!

He was about to put Husk in his place when he remembered Charlie's advice…Maybe the night wasn't ruined after all.

"I don't even know why you're mad, but if it's that important, we can talk tomorrow when you're calm. I'm not engaging with you til you're cooled off and sober."

He expected a huff, he expected an eyeroll, he even expected the cold shoulder.

He did not expect Husk's eyes to go wide, brows to raise, and for the cat to sit up, forcing him off his chest.

"You…"

"Honey." Angel was trying to sound sweet. Husk was acting like an angry client. "Please…"

_ Please don't make me have to shoot you. _

"You fuckin'..."

"Let's both calm down and we'll talk about it in the morning. I get that you're mad, it's hard being in your position."

Husk's lip was curled. He looked like Valentino.

"You talked to fuckin'  _ Charlie _ about...about us?"

"Wait, huh?" How the fuck did he know that?

"That's exactly what that little priss always fuckin' says. About fuckin' 'engaging.' Anytime I try to have a goddamn conversation with anybody, she butts her big blonde head in…"

"It's not that big."

Husk stood up from the bed. His legs wobbled; he was drunk and tired.

"I can't fuckin' believe you'd go around blabbing our goddamn business like some fuckin' housewife!"

"She didn't know I was talkin' about you, Husky."

"Don't  _ Husky _ me!" His claws were about as close to fists as they got. "Why are you even complaining about me in the goddamn first place?! What, I'm so difficult?"

"You  _ can  _ be a little -"

"Oh, 'cause you're so easy to deal with!"

"That's not what I said, can you listen for two seconds, with those huge-ass ears?!"

Husk flinched. He was more than a little sensitive about his demon form.

"I'm asking what the fuck you need Charlie for. I'm pretty easy to please, babydoll: Food, drink, and pussy. That's all I need to be happy."

Angel laughed in disbelief. "Um…That's what I am to you? A checkmark on the list?"

"I - no - I'm just saying, the fuck are you going crying to other people for? It's not like we got some complicated arrangement here. In my day, a couple's business was  _ their _ goddamn business!"

"We're not a couple." Angel's stomach dropped. He'd said that automatically, out of sheer habit. "Shit, honey, no…"

Husk looked like he'd had his pants pulled down in the middle of a crowd. His ears went flat and he actually stepped back in surprise. The old man didn't do well with vulnerability on a good day, let alone having it thrown back in his face in the middle of an argument. He went bright red with humiliation.

"Husky -"

"Fuck off. I didn't mean we were a - I just meant - fuck."

"We  _ are _ a couple!"

"Like fuck we are, we don't even get along half the time, and the other half is when we're fucking or sleeping!"

"Don't be like that, I just said that 'cause I'm so used to shutting guys down. You can't say we're  _ nothing." _

Husk laughed derisively. "When was the last time  _ you _ shut anybody down?"

That was it. Angel stood proudly and said, "For your information, I'm incredibly exclusive. And even then, I say no to plenty. Not that it's any of your fuckin' business, kitten."

Husk's scowl deepened at the mockery. "Don't go there."

"I'll go wherever I damn well please. No wonder you're so insecure, you're a literal pussy!"

Husk felt rage shoot through his brain like boiling poison. His vision actually went white for a moment, and in that moment, he said, "Damned  _ whore." _

Angel's jaw went slack. "I know I didn't just hear what I thought I heard."

"You -"

"I  _ know _ you didn't just call me that fucking word, you geriatric sack of run-over cat balls."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, let's just -"

"What, talk about it when we've both calmed down?" His head was pounding with low burning anger. He was so disgusted, he actually wanted to laugh. "I suggested that, but it wasn't good enough for you."

"I know, you were right. You're still right."

"Here's what we're gonna do." His voice was shaky and quiet. "You've hurt me more times than I can count, not to mention Fat Nuggets. So you're gonna get the fuck out."

"Anything you want, baby, I'm sorry."

"You're gonna stop calling me 'baby.'"

"I'm sorry."

"You're gonna stop fucking talking." He walked over to his dresser and removed something from the drawer. "You're gonna get the fuck out. You're never gonna fucking come back."

"Angel -"

Angel pressed the object into Husk's paw. It was a small, silver gun. 

"And you're gonna do the world a favor and kill yourself. Again. Like the pussy you are."

Husk's ears were still pointed straight back, but now in fear, rather than anger. How had things gone so wrong?

"Please -"

Angel stamped his foot, though it was so soft it barely made a sound. His screech made up for that. 

"Get the  _ fuck out!" _

Husk scrambled out of the room, the fur on his back standing on end.

Angel slammed the door in the cat's wake, and to his satisfaction, heard a surprised yelp in response. Then, he leaned his back against the door and sobbed. 

Husk had seemed different. He was so real and reachable. Not emotionally, but he wasn't concerned with impressing Angel, and didn't need Angel to put a show on for him. He made him feel...normal. Now, he was just another in a long line of mistakes. 

And Angel was to Husk, he supposed, another in a long line of whores. 

No one bothered to hide their stares when Angel walked into the studio the next morning. His hair was a wild mess, as was his fluff, and his whole face was flushed and swollen. He'd spent the night sobbing out of all eight eyes, only dragging himself out of bed for this stupid Q&A shoot so he wouldn't have to face Val's wrath.

He sat through hair and makeup like a corpse, letting them primp and preen him however they saw fit, staring wordlessly straight ahead. A far cry from his usual, picky self.

All he heard when the girls tried to strike up conversation was  _ "Whore. Whore. Whore." _ He didn't answer them, so they eventually went quiet.

They actually did an alright job. They iced his face to reduce the swelling, then distracted from the redness by giving him a dramatic blush and highlight, and applied a gently glimmering pink creme shadow to his eyelids. To finish it off, they did his eyebrows and liner in dark brown, giving him an earthy look. In the wardrobe department, he simply changed into a tasteful, pastel pink silk robe. 

He sat on a small, cream colored couch for the shoot. Someone came and handed him a pile of notecards, each with a question he'd read aloud and then answer. 

He sat there motionless while the crew got ready, not listening to anything that occurred before the director shouted, "Action!"

Angel smiled coyly. "Hey, it's Angel Dust…but you already knew that. Tonight, I'm gonna be answering some of your questions. Let's have some fun!"

_ Damned whore. _

He took the first notecard from the pile. He wasn't paying attention, and gave some lewd but generic answer. He did the same thing for the next several questions. Usually, these things were fun - he liked the attention - but today he was on autopilot.

"Angel," said the director, "I want you lounging back, give us a sexier pose. And would it kill you to answer with some fucking feeling?"

_ Whore. _

"I am! I  _ feel  _ like these questions are stupid."

"Pretend your time is money like mine is, and answer like you like your job."

"I love my job, sweetheart, I just don't like _ you. _ Don't get pissy at me just 'cause I'm salaried." Before the guy could respond, Angel read the next card. "'Dear Angel Dust: What is your opinion on bondage?'" He looked at the camera and grinned wickedly. "A-Okay, baby."

"Give me more."

_ Whore. _

"I'm not fuckin' done!" Still staring straight at the camera lens, he continued, "I like to be tied up and strapped down and thrown into the wall -"

"Alright, next we're -"

"Shut up, I'm not done!" He leaned forward. "I want you to tie me up, I need you to find each wrist, with some fluffy fuckin' handcuffs, then take some Smucker's raspberry jam and smother it on my face to the point that I can barely breathe…" Angel went on like this for nearly a minute, until every crew member looked as uncomfortable as he felt. 

Hey, so what if he had a dirty mouth? He was a whore, after all.

Overall, it was a fun shoot. Really helped him take his mind off things. 

He treated himself to lunch at one of Hell's more upscale restaurants. He usually didn't like to mix liquors, but several handsome demons bought him drinks, and it'd be rude to refuse. Whores didn't make "No, thanks" a popular phrase in their vocabulary, anyway.

He spent the rest of the day managing his social media presence (sitting in his dressing room responding to comments on his posts) before he decided he'd better get home. God, he wanted nothing less. 

It was late, so he had his driver pick him up and take him back to the hotel. The ride seemed so short; he was pulling up to the stained glass door before he had time to think of a gameplan when it came to dealing with Husk.

Husk wasn't at the bar, but Angel's relief was short-lived. As he climbed the stairs, he heard that scratchy voice.

"Angel Dust?"

_ Whore? _

He paused. The cat must've been sleeping on the couch, waiting for him. He should've tread lighter.

"Angel…talk to me?"

His top set of arms crossed, and the bottom set rested on his hips.

"About what?"

"I'm sorry. Can I come upstairs with you?"

Angel whipped around, and descended the stairs so he could confront Husk face to face.

"Can  _ you _ come upstairs with  _ me?" _

Husk's ears were pointed back, and his paws were behind his head, showing his belly in submission.

"You sure you wanna be seen going into a whore's hotel room?"

"Angel, you're not a -"

"No, I am, I literally am! Why else would that word bother me? I'm a fuckin' whore."

"I don't care, c'mon  _ bellissima, _ let me make it up to you."

"Okay, you're not understanding what's going on here." Angel bent over so they were nose to nose. "You and me are fucking  _ done. _ Over. Not gonna happen. So quit pestering me, or I'm gonna call the boys down at the studio and they're gonna fuckin' wail on your ass. I don't wanna see hide nor goddamn hair of your drunk ass. Got it?"

Husk just nodded. 

As he went upstairs, Angel called behind him, "Oh, and Husky?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought I told you to kill yourself."


	2. Coping Mechanisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u everyone for ur nice comments!!!

"Bye. I had a good time."

"Oh, I know." Angel pulled on his gloves. "That's what I get paid the big bucks for, sweetheart." 

"Can I see you again -?"

"Call my agent, I don't make my own schedule like some kinda streetwalkin' floozy."

"Uh...alright."

Angel left the client behind without saying goodbye. He asked his driver to stop for food on the way back to the hotel - he would kill for a juicy burger after the stupid grape and cheese spread his date had put out - and he was in the middle of pouring salt over fresh, golden fries when his phone rang. He knew the ringtone, and tensed up immediately.

"What's up, Val?"

"Well, your date sent in his satisfaction survey."

"Oh. How'd I do?"

"Depends. Apparently you're a great fuck, but a stone cold bitch."

"Yeah, that sounds like me."

"You think this is funny? This is your third bad review in a row!"

Angel sighed. He guessed maybe his attitude hadn't been all that great since he and Husk…ended.

"I'm sorry, Val, things just haven't been hittin' right lately. It's not like guys hire me for the sweet-and-innocent routine anyway. I'll get back in the groove, you know I will."

"Oh, you  _ bet _ you will. You've got that big date tomorrow night, you'll be entertaining my close personal friends, and if they have  _ one _ bad thing to say, you're punished!"

"Alright, Val, I'm sorry." He wiped a tear away from one of his smaller eyes. Ugh, since when did he cry so easily?

"Angel Cakes, smile."

"I am."

"You're not. I can hear it."

Angel sighed and pulled a tight grin. "Now I am, Val."

"Be good for me, baby. Aren't  _ I _ good to  _ you?" _

"Yeah."

"Of course I am. You're my special little pet, aren't you?"

Angel shifted. Val's tone was somewhat sensual, now, and it brought up memories. They'd had some good times. 

"Yeah, I know."

"They don't want an orgy, they're gonna have you one by one, so all you gotta do is lay back and moan. Can you do that for me?"

Angel got out of the car, balancing the phone on his shoulder as he struggled to carry his food and purse. "I will."

"And if you do  _ really _ well, maybe you'll even get rewarded."

"I'll make you look good, boss," he said, entering the hotel. Husk was behind the bar, staring at him pathetically. He always waited up for Angel to get home. Too little too late.

_ Damned whore. _

Suddenly, Angel had a wicked idea.

"Val, is there any way we can make a last minute adjustment to those plans?"

Husk wished he was dead. Again.

"Hey, kitty, top me off?"

His fur bristled, but he refilled the douchey demon's drink.

He'd been so hopeful, earlier, when Angel Dust approached him and asked for a favor.

"Anything," Husk had said. He kicked himself; did he have to be so violently desperate?

"I'm having some friends over. They should be here any minute. Do you think you can keep 'em soaked in alcohol while I entertain them?"

"Of course. I'll take care of the tab."

"Oh, that won't be necessary." Just then, the door opened, and a group of five well dressed demons entered. "Hey, boys."

Husk blinked. These rich, older assholes didn't seem like Angel's usual friends at all. They seemed more like his clients.

Oh, shit.

"Husky here is gonna keep you boys nice and happy so nobody gets bored waiting their turn." He let his robe fall away, revealing a red lace bra with matching panties and stockings. "So, who's first?"

It seemed like days before Angel finally called the fifth guy up to his suite. Husk was seething as he waited on these disgusting men. The way they so flippantly recounted the filthy details of what they'd done to Angel, how they carelessly defiled him, like he was nothing, it made Husk's blood boil.

"You shoulda seen his face when he was ridin' me, I tell ya, his eyes rolled back in his head!"

Husk's fur stood on end.

"It was like he read my mind, too, when he was blowin' me and stuck a finger in."

"You're into that shit? Faggot."

"That's comin' from the guy who ate the slut's ass… _ After _ I came in it!"

"He fuckin' loved it, too!"

Husk scoffed and all the boys turned to him.

"What's up, pussycat?"

"Nothing, nothing. Where'd you all meet Angel, anyway?"

"Val at the studio introduced us. Why?"

"Just wondering. Have you seen his movies?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Yeah, I guess that's true," chuckled Husk, shaking slightly with rage. "Angel is a great _ actor." _

A tense pause, and the tallest demon, a lizard, said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

What would've been a brutal argument between Husk and these assholes was interrupted by Angel's voice.

"Jeez Louise, boys!" he said, leaning on his companion as they descended the stairs. "You really know how to show a girl a good time!"

He saw the boys out, kissing each on the cheek and collecting generous tips as they left.

Angel took the wad of cash and tossed it onto the bar.

"That should cover the bill."

"Angel…"

"Don't. It's pathetic."

Angel spent the rest of the night in his room, cleansing the strangers' energies away with sage. He would ordinarily never let clients into his personal space, but spiting Husk was worth it. Ha, the way his stupid yellow eye twitched, and how his wings were crumpled in intimidation! He literally had his tail between his legs, too!

Angel only left his room to get a snack. He felt like he'd burned a million calories with those guys, even though he'd only fucked three of them; the other two just cried and complained about their lives.

Not even Niffty scuttling around the kitchen looking for a scouring pad, slowing down his delicate process of reheating a dozen mozzarella sticks, could take the spring out of his step. Husk was probably in his basement room, drunk-crying right now. Hilarious.

Niffty was pretty frantic. She'd gotten a bottle of bleach from under the sink, but she kept muttering, "That's not enough, jeez-it, I need more!" Maybe the boys had left the bar a bigger mess than he'd thought. Now, that was depressing. Husk should have to clean it up, not little Niffty.

He was going to suggest this, when he got a text. Val. 

Moment of truth… 

_ V: Good boy. _

Oh, thank goodness. 

_ A: so…wuts my reward gmckfdncxnxhb _

_ V: My place tomorrow. Dress cute but comfy. _

_ A: c u :3  _

All things considered, it was a thoroughly satisfying evening.

Angel often wondered why he put up with so much bullshit, letting Val toss him around like a ragdoll from exhausting shoots to Johns' laps, but days like this reminded him exactly why it was worth it.

He was lounging in the shallow, sparkling water of Valentino's pool, watching some stupid reality show on the outdoor TV, enjoying all the delicious treats the help saw fit to offer him. He'd almost forgotten what great wine tasted like! His dates always "splurged" on  _ good _ wine, sure, but Valentino had long since taught him that if it was printed on the menu, it was probably piss.

Val himself was at work, but he'd cleared Angel's schedule for a few days so he could have some relaxation. Although Angel denied it, Val could tell something had been bothering him. He didn't care on a personal level, of course, but keeping the little fruit happy was a smart strategy. 

"I made you a sub, honey," said one of the servants, placing a plate on the tile next to Angel. They didn't have to worry about bugs or pests getting to the food under the safety of Val's glass lanai. "Want another coconut mojito?"

"Only if you make yourself one, too," said Angel, turning to the shy imp. She was his favorite of Val's employees. "And they're called  _ heroes,  _ gorgeous, not  _ subs. _ Speaking of which, go grab a knife, and we'll share it!"

"I really shouldn't."

"Uh, what'd Valentino tell all'a youse before he left this morning?"

The girl smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her horn. "Keep you happy, no matter what."

"Having lunch with you would make me  _ so _ happy, honey!"

She finally agreed, and they were relaxing together, roasting the contestants on the TV when Angel received a text. He pushed back his sunglasses so he could see the screen.

_ Charlie: Hi! Do u have painkillers? _

Well, that was odd.

_ A: ofc nottt _

_ C: This isn't a test, I really need them. Not me personally but yeah. I'll pay for them and everything. _

Even odder. But hey, he was in a good mood.

_ A: u ok? _

_ C: I'm fine.  _

_ A: ill send my assistant over dw abt paying <3  _

_ C: Wait where are you? _

_ A: valz placeee :p _

_ C: :( _

_ A: nah hes being good xD _

Angel didn't actually lay eyes on Val until dinner the next night. Val sat at the head of the table, with Angel to his right, while the rest of the huge marble dining table remained empty. The room echoed when they spoke.

"How's the food, Angel baby?"

Through a mouthful of ravioli with vodka sauce, Angel replied, "Really good."

Val wiped Angel's lip with a red, cloth napkin, and pet the spider's cheek with his finger. Angel leaned into the touch; it'd been way too long since he'd received physical attention from anyone besides clients.

"You look happy."

Angel smiled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well you've been a grouchy pain in my ass the past few weeks."

"Sorry."

"Yeah." He moved on to caressing Angel's head, scratching gently. "Do I need to kill somebody? Who's bothering you?"

"Nothin' like that."

"It's not a guy?"

"I mean…Yeah, but -"

"What'd I tell you about slutting it up?"

"I wasn't, he was the only guy I was seeing, it just…It fizzled out."

Val sighed. "The usual?"

"Huh?"

"Some older guy - probably a suicide, maybe an overdoser like you - mean to you like your dad, but with a nice dick?"

"I…"

"Yeah, you have a type. But lemme tell you something." He put his hand on the back of Angel's head and forced him close. "Guys are rough, right?"

"Yeah."

Val tightened his grip on Angel's hair. "If you can't handle that, stay away from them."

"Val - I will."

"I don't give a shit what's going on in your sad little life outside the studio. When you're on set, or on a date, you are to be on your  _ best _ behavior. Understand?"

"Yes, Val."

"I'm the only guy in your life who matters. Right?"

"Yes, Val. Of course." His eyes were wide and glistening. Valentino let go of his hair and stroked Angel's cheek again.

"Who made you a star, baby? Who made you worth something?"

"You did."

"That's right. You're my special little pet, Angel baby, so why don't you behave for me?"

"I'm sorry."

He slipped his thumb into Angel's mouth. "Whoever's been bothering you, I want you to stay away from him. And I don't want you seeing guys on the side, anymore. If you get horny, come to me, I'll do you or set you up with a piece. But I'll promise you one thing: Nobody else is gonna carry you through Hell and back. Nobody is gonna protect you. I'm your only shot, sweetheart."

Angel fought back tears. It was true; he was nothing but a guinea pig to Charlie, Alastor actually  _ wanted _ him to fail at redemption for the sake of his own entertainment, and Husk…Even if he cared, what did the pussycat have to offer?

"Yes, Val."

He removed his hand from Angel and went back to eating. "You can go home tomorrow morning. You've got a date tomorrow night, and I want you on your best behavior."

"Drag, or regular clothes?"

Val scoffed. "He's a fucking weirdo. He said he wants you to wear whatever you feel 'most confident' in."

"He a virgin at this?"

"Yup. You're his first foray into the red light district. Try and make him a regular." 

"You got it, Val, I won't disappoint you."

Valentino smiled. God, he'd done a good job training this little whore.

Husk groaned as he woke up. His head felt like he'd fallen ten stories, but the rest of his body was fine. 

"Husker? Are you awake?" It was Alastor, though he was speaking in an uncharacteristically mild tone.

He groaned again. The pain! It was too bad for him even to open his eyes. 

"Open your mouth, and I'll give you a pill."

Now, that sounded good. The only thing that could make it better was a few shots to dull the overwhelming ache.

"Good, good." He felt two pills slip into his mouth. "Now, a sip of water…"

He tried, but choked, dribbling water all over himself. 

"Not to worry," said Alastor. It felt like he was dabbing at his chest with a towel. "Let's try that again."

It worked, this time. He still coughed up a lung, but the pills went down. 

"Those should start working in a few minutes."

Husk grunted. 

"Husker, I have some genuine concerns about your wellbeing."

That sentence was so stupid that it motivated Husk to try and speak. His jaw hurt like it was broken, but he managed a raspy "Me, too, motherfucker."

"You know, I had a cat when I was alive. He was a bastard. Or so I thought."

"Fuck off," he wheezed, and entered another coughing fit. 

"He'd yell and scream, not to mention claw at everything he could get his filthy nails on. I hated him."

Husk pounded his chest, trying to keep from choking.

"As it turned out, he was simply bored. So I purchased him some toys, took some time to engage with him, and he was simply a doll! But I'm sure you're wondering why I'm telling you this."

Husk reached out for Alastor - clumsily, since he was trying to judge his location by the sound of his voice - in an attempt to push him away. Alastor took the paw in his hand and grasped it.

"Husker, my friend, I am of the firm belief that you are  _ woefully  _ understimulated."

"The fuck?"

"You're a restless soul, in a body with restless instincts. Your drinking, gambling, rudeness, and now...this, they're results of boredom!"

"I was the same…" he took a deep, shuddering breath, "When I was alive."

"And even then, you were a victim of your overactive aspirations! You've never known the feeling of satisfaction! You're like a cat alone in a concrete room."

"Idiot."

"There were several months during which you seemed to be doing better. Your disposition was more playful, you were less dismissive, you took pride in learning new cocktails and working off your debt to me. What was satisfying you, then?"

Husk felt around. He recognized the texture of the threadbare blanket over his legs. So he was on his bed, then. He pulled the blanket up to his neck, refusing to answer. He heard Alastor shift uncomfortably. 

"I must confess, Husker, I was aware of your and our resident little spider's affair since its inception; I happen to have impeccable hearing."

Husk's heart pounded. He knew? The whole time, he knew?! The fact that someone else had been aware of their relationship made him want to puke. It made the whole thing seem so real.

"I never said anything because I thought you'd tell me in your own time. But, no bother!"

"Leave it." This was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"I didn't bring it up to hurt your feelings, nor your pride. On the contrary, you may be the only demon down here I'd like to see succeed at the dear princess's mission. You could be legend."

His head felt like a thousand hangovers. What the fuck had he done to it?

"What?" he croaked. 

"Husker, do you realize you've been without the supreme pleasures of alcohol for about three days?"

"That why my head hurts?"

A laugh track sounded. "Oh, that's only an insignificant, microscopic _ fraction _ of why your poor little head hurts!" He patted the cat's head gently, but it felt odd. Husk focused on the sensation. Was his head bandaged?

"Then what?"

"After three days, you'll have been through the worst of your physical withdrawals. Luckily, you were unconscious for the vast majority of it - oh, you should've seen how you shivered! Positively grotesque!"

"Thanks."

"The only thing to do now is combat your  _ mental _ withdrawals; and Heaven knows those are worst of all. Though, I'd be glad to help you. I'm more than a little familiar with the art of self restraint."

Husk remained silent. Was Alastor really suggesting…?

"What I mean is, as devastating as it'd be to see you go, I truly believe you have the capacity to succeed in the mission of this hotel. Redemption, penance, all that nonsense."

"No."

"Husker. Think of the things I've done for you."

The cat frowned. He hated how much he owed Alastor. The guy had saved his ass more times than he could count.

"Consider it, for me. You're no use to anyone like this, least of all yourself." He picked up his cane and stood. "Now, I'll take my leave, but one of the girls will be in to check on you soon enough. I have no doubt you're absolutely famished!"

He really was, but he'd trade a five course meal for a single drink right now. Even fuckin' beer.

"Oh, and Husker?" Alastor leaned back in the door. "Be a good man and get well by tomorrow evening. I took the liberty of making plans for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, angel got revenge, husk got injured, and val laid down the law...did u like this chapter? If youre nervous to leave comments u should dm me on twitter or ig, or send an anon on tumblr! Im hippiehusk on all platforms :)


	3. An Expensive Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Here's ch3. Thank you all so much for your nice comments and messages, I read them all and one day I'll be brave enough to reply <3

"Your wine…Ma'am?"

Angel nodded encouragingly at his confused waiter. 

"Thanks, sweetheart. My date'll be here any minute." 

He'd arrived to the restaurant rather early. He couldn't stand the atmosphere of the hotel, especially after his wonderful weekend of jacuzzis and massages at Val's. The hotel was even more somber than usual, but after he walked in and inquired, "Jeez, who died?" no one would talk to him. Least of all Charlie, who began bawling at the question. 

Oops.

His client was supposedly new to being with working girls, so he used this as an opportunity to wear one of his more conservative outfits: a black velvet halter top dress with a heart-shaped boob window, a sleek and shiny wig, and sharp black liner with a nude lip. He wore six pairs of elbow-length black gloves to complete the look.

He sipped the wine - off menu, of course - as he waited.

Husk pulled up his pants as he trotted to keep up with Alastor. Even with suspenders, he was too skinny to hold his own trousers up, especially after being incapacitated and limited to eating soup for several days.

"C'mon, Al, where're we going? I can't walk much further!"

"Oh, you'll be fine! Besides -" he turned down an alley. "We're here!"

Husk followed Alastor down some dark, damp steps. He was about to ask why the fuck he'd been made to dress up for this backalley when Alastor opened the rickety wooden door at the bottom of the staircase.

"One of my favorite speakeasies!" He approached the hostess stand while Husk took in the atmosphere. Dimly lit with golden candlelight, and cloudy with smoke, the place was decorated like a classic New Orleans bar, right down to the jazz band in the corner. 

"Husker, follow me." 

He obeyed, looking at the patrons as they walked by. Eccentric and odd, but classy, too. Definitely Al's crowd. 

They approached a woman, alone at her table. Husk couldn't see her face, but she had long, shiny black hair. Alastor pointed to her.

"I made you a date with that one."

"What?!" He could just kill Alastor sometimes! "After all the shit you spouted about how good Angel was for me, you go and -"

"I think you'll find her quite to your liking." He patted Husk on the shoulder and headed toward the bar. He was an enigma of a man, alright, but by now, Husk knew to trust him.

Husk nervously smoothed his mutton chops, straightened his top hat, and approached the woman.

"Uh, hey, I - Oh, shit!" 

Looking up at him, fiddling with his long black tresses, was Angel Dust.

"Husk?! What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, I -"

"Scram, kitty, my date's gonna be here any second! Unless…" His expression darkened, as did his tone. "Oh, Husky, tell me you're not  _ that _ pathetic. You must've taken out a loan; we both know you can't even afford an hour with me!"

"Al set this up. The fucking idiot." He glared over at the bar, aware that Alastor could almost certainly hear him.

"Gimme a break. Al would never do something this immature!"

"You really don't know him at all, do you?"

Angel followed Husk's gaze. His jaw dropped when he spotted the deer peeking at them over a cocktail menu.

"Well, I'll be damned."

"I'll get out of your way. You should eat, though, and get something expensive; Al'll pick up the check. Screw 'im."

Angel stared into his wine glass. He was at an adorable little restaurant with the only man he'd ever felt like himself around. By all means, this should be an incredible night. He considered telling Husk to stay, to forget the whole breakup thing, but the words caught in his throat, and Husk had already walked away. 

Husk trudged through the restaurant, genuinely geared up to go home and have a drink - fuck it, he was already in Hell, and he was going to relapse eventually anyway, why prolong it? His stomach burned with anger and embarrassment.

He opened the door - with difficulty, since it was a knob, not a handle, and he had to use both paws - only to find an unexpected sight. 

Rather than seeing the outside, he was peering into the very room he was standing in. 

"What the fuck…?" Through the door, he saw Al at the bar. The deer caught his eye and waved, smiling a dastardly smile.

Bastard. 

"Alright, change of plans," said Husk, sitting down across from Angel. "Al magicked the door and he isn't gonna let me leave til…I dunno, til we give him what he wants."

"What's he want us to do, kiss and make up? Fuck on the table?"

"No idea." Husk opened his menu. "Knowing his stubborn ass, we'd better settle in."

The waiter dropped by, now that Husk had finally sat his ass down. 

"Can I get you something to drink, sir?"

"Gin and -"  _ Shit.  _ "Uh, water, please. But hold the gin."

"So...A water." He was already sick of these people.

"And a wine glass for him," added Angel, indicating toward the bottle.

They sat in awkward silence until the waiter dropped off Husk's drink and took their orders. Husk took the liberty of ordering several appetizers, as well as the most expensive entree on the menu, just to piss Al off.

"Do the thing," said Angel. 

"Huh?"

He pointed to the lemon on the edge of Husk's glass. 

"No way."

"C'mon, if we _ have _ to be here, we might as well have a little fun!" His eyes were in a crescent moon shape, as they always were when he was behaving mischievously. Husk relented; at this point, he'd do anything to make Angel happy. 

He plucked the lemon from its perch, took a deep breath, and sucked it for a moment. His neck all but disappeared, his entire face crumpled into a disgusted expression, and then came Angel's favorite part: Husk sneezed several weird little cat sneezes, twitching, tongue sticking out.

Angel couldn't help but laugh.

"I still don't see how that's so funny."

"Then you're a moron." He poured Husk a glass of wine. "There's your reward. That's the good shit."

"Thanks." Luckily, their appetizers arrived just then, so it wasn't too conspicuous that he didn't take a sip.

A minute later, through a mouthful of shrimp, Angel said, "Oh, hey, can I have that gun back?"

"Sure."

"Sorry I…Said all that stuff. But to be fair, you kinda deserved it."

"Oh, I definitely deserved it." Husk's head pounded at the memory of the pain. Blinding, searing, mind-numbing pain. Yet, he deserved so much more.

"Well, either way, I'm glad you didn't blow your brains out."

"Glad it didn't work, anyway."

Angel paused in the middle of buttering a slice of bread. "Hm?"

"I did it. Y'know, shot myself."

Everything was too loud, but too quiet all at once, like someone screaming underwater. Husk was bullshitting, he must be.

"You did not."

"Yeah. I was laid up for a few days, but that shit just healed."

_ No. No. No, no, no. _

"Why would you do that?!" Several people stopped and stared. Angel leaned in and whispered, this time,  _ "Why?!" _

"It solved my problems last time, so I thought I'd give it another shot." He chuckled. "Heh,  _ another shot." _

"That's not funny. You're a fucking idiot. You could've -"

"What, double died? And gone to double hell?"

"Is that why everyone was acting so weird back at the hotel?!"

"I dunno. Probably. I wasn't really paying attention to what everybody else was doing."

"Husk -"

"Can we quit talking about it? Kinda shitty memory!"

"Oh, that's luxurious.  _ You're _ done with the conversation, so now we all gotta adapt to you."

That tone usually made Husk's blood boil, but now, he actually felt bad. Angel was obviously hurting.

"Alright, what do you wanna know?"

"I want a goddamn serious answer: Why?"

Husk thought for a moment. "Lots of reasons."

"Gimme some."

"Well, I was shitfaced, first of all. I'd just got done listening to that group of guys talk about all the disgusting shit they'd done to you, so I got really hammered. Surprised I didn't get alcohol poisoning."

"So it  _ was _ 'cause of me."

"No."

"Yeah." Angel's little heart pounded in his chest. He was pretty sure the whole restaurant could hear it fluttering. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't'a gotten that upset. You wouldn't have the fuckin' gun in the first place…"

"Angel." Gingerly, Husk reached forward, and rested a paw on one of Angel's hands. "It was gonna happen either way. I'd been feeling the pressure, just like I did when I was alive, it's like being at the bottom of the ocean. Every second lasts an hour, the happiest you get is neutral, and the only way out is…y'know,  _ boom." _

Angel stared at Husk's paw on his gloved hand. What a pretty sight. They'd been such a handsome couple.

He couldn't understand what Husk was saying, not really. His life had always been too quick paced to stop and consider things like emotional wellbeing or satisfaction.

"I'm still sorry, Husk."

"Well, if you insist, then I accept." 

He was such a gentleman, so much more earnest than all his sleazy Johns. Angel sipped his wine, hoping it'd dull the pain.

"You gotta try this," he said to Husk. "It's like a thousand years old."

"Uh…" He leaned over his glass and sniffed it. "Delicious."

"What the fuck was that?" Was it the wine making him giggle, or was Husk just that weird?

"I've been trying to cut back lately."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Sorry, but is that a joke?"

"Well, I haven't had a sip of anything in days, so you tell me."

"Damn, really?"

"Uh-huh. Feels fuckin' weird." He tried to get the meat out of an oyster, but had to use both paws to hold the fork, and as a result, the shellfish kept slipping.

Angel took the oyster from him and scooped the meat out. 

"Open."

Husk's ears pointed forward as he opened his mouth. Angel fed him his bite and continued speaking as if nothing happened.

"Of course it feels weird. When was the last time you were stone cold sober?"

"I don't even remember. Am I different? Like, actin' stupid?"

Angel took a moment to consider his answer. 

"It's like all the decent parts of you are coming out, instead of the mean shit. Like, normally, we definitely woulda had a blowout fight by the time we got our entrees."

"I'm sorry. Really."

"That's alright. I'm not much help."

"No, I mean for everything."

"It's ok."

"I think I'm gonna try and stay sober."

Angel looked up in surprise.  _ "You?" _

"Al wants me to. He thinks I can make it. Do it with me, Angel."

"Whoa, what?"

"I'm sorry, but I miss you. You know I wouldn't say something that dumb unless I meant it, too!"

"You miss  _ alcohol." _

"No, baby, it's you." He leaned forward. "Please."

"I can't."

"Please."

"No, y'know what? I can't believe a thing you say anymore. When you're drunk, at least I know you're telling the brutal truth."

Husk chuckled. "Is that what you think?! When I'm drunk, I'll say anything I need to say. I'll lie without even thinking about it. And if I wanna hurt somebody, I'll say whatever the Hell I think is gonna hurt them the most."

"That's even worse."

"I know. I'm sorry for everything I said, but I swear, I'd rather be sober with you than drunk without you. Please, let me come back?"

"I can't."

"Won't you think about it?" 

"Husk, let's be honest, you're _ gonna _ relapse. And I don't wanna be on the front lines when that happens."

"I'm really gonna try. I promise."

Angel took a bite of his gumbo to avoid answering. He'd give his soul to agree, take Husk back, be together again, but his soul wasn't his to give.

And even if it was, Hell was dangerous. Rapists and murderers ran wild, and he was a high profile target, famous for his body, but not quite famous enough to afford constant security. There was no doubt that those sickos would do anything for a bite of him. And then there was the drugs…Without Val behind him, he'd be cut off from the best supply for a decent price (even free, sometimes, if he was a good boy). Valentino had money, power, influence. He was an evil, exploitative bastard, but he could protect and provide for him. 

Husk…was complicated. He had the capacity to be incredibly cruel, but he was sweet and gentle, too. And he genuinely liked Angel, sex aside - maybe even loved him. But what could Husk do for him? Love was great, but it wasn't enough. 

Odds were, since he would be down here for eternity, he'd eventually part ways with one of the men no matter who he chose. Did he want to spend that time loved, yet destitute and fearful? Or wealthy and secure?

Besides, Val wouldn't let him go. Not now, when he was at his prime. Not without a fight. And Husk just wasn't reliable enough to fight for.

But God, he wanted to.

"Husk…I'm sorry."

"Don't be, honey girl, don't worry." He unfolded a clean napkin and wiped the tears away from Angel's eyes. "Don't cry."

"I'm sorry." He was shaking with the effort of holding back his tears. He was sad, sure, but most of all, frustration ate away at him like acid. He buried his face in his hands in an attempt to calm himself. Why had he ever sold his soul in the first place?!

All he wanted was to go home with Husk, take a hot shower with him, fuck him ruthlessly, then fall asleep in his arms. But he couldn't have it.

"Don't apologize, honey." Husk stroked his cheek with a claw. He was so sweet, deep down. "It's okay."

"I want you so bad, I swear. I just…" He blinked his tears away in an effort to compose himself. "I need the protection, and Val'll go nuts if he finds out I'm seeing anybody. And he  _ will _ find out. I just can't give him up, I need him to carry me through this, he's the only one who can help me right now. He made me."

"That's alright."

Angel sighed and went back to his gumbo; he was glad he had ordered comfort food instead of some stupid cranberry salad.

"Are you okay?"

"Not really. Are you?"

Husk chuckled. "I don't even know anymore."

"Husky…"

"I should go." He stood quickly, wiping the sweat from his brow. Panic was setting in. "I'm sorry."

"Husk -!"

"I'm sorry."

Valentino groaned when some idiot knocked on his bedroom door. He raised his sleep mask from his eyes and called, "The fuck do you want?"

One of his maids opened the door. 

"Angel Dust is here to see you. Should I let him in?"

Jesus. What the fuck did that little bitch want now? In the middle of the night, no less?

"Fine."

Angel entered slowly, reeking of wine, getting a good look at Val in bed. It was funny, seeing him lying there in pink silk pajamas. He looked oddly vulnerable.

"Hey, Daddy."

"What do you want?"

"Drugs."

"What happened to your allowance?"

"It's not enough. And besides, you always have the best shit." He sat on the edge of the bed. "C'mon, I'll earn it."

"No. Go sleep off that shitty box wine in a guest room."

"It happens to be incredible wine." He smoothed out the red plush covers. "I'm surprised you don't recognize it."

"Go away." He rolled over and pulled the sleep mask over his eyes.

"Aw, Vallie…" He stood and slowly removed his dress and wig, fully aware that Val was listening closely. Carefully, so as not to enrage the roach, Angel climbed into bed beside him. 

"What the fuck do you  _ want?" _ Val groaned.

"Well, you told me to come see you if I needed…satisfaction, remember? I mean, I'd be glad to go out on my own and find -"

"Hand me my phone, I'll set up a dick appointment."

"Daddy." Angel hugged Val with one set of arms and nuzzled his face into the roach's neck. "I need  _ you." _

What he needed was familiarity, to be held by someone whose next moves he could predict, and Val was all he had access to right now. He'd probably regret this - Val was so desensitized to all things sexual, he took forever to cum - but he didn't care.

Val pulled his face mask off again and tossed it aside.

"I don't want your sloppy seconds."

"I didn't have sex with my date. He chickened out."

Val sighed. "Fine. Let's get this overwith."

He kissed Angel hard, and wasted no time licking his hand and stroking him as slowly as he could manage. 

"Man, you're wet," said Val, fondling Angel's pussy. "Your date got you all hot and bothered?"

"A little."

"Slut."

Angel was already squirming beneath Val's touch. 

"Can you eat me out? Please?"

"No." He began rubbing Angel's pussy at a faster pace. "Too much work."

"Sorry."

"Just shut up." Another hand began playing with the sensitive skin beneath Angel's chest fluff. 

Angel wanted it slow and sensual, but Val wasn't in the mood tonight. He was already removing his silk bottoms and lubing himself up with Angel's wetness.

"What hole do you want it in?"

"Whichever."

Valentino grabbed some actual lube from his bedside drawer and squirted some on one of Angel's hands.

"Finger your ass while I do your pussy. Don't get in my way."

Angel shut his eyes as he obeyed, imagining it was Husk touching him. Val lacked fur, and his cock was smooth and barb-free, but Angel had a great imagination.

Husk was the best at oral. He always said Angel tasted just like a cream puff, and ate him out like he was a delicious dessert. He claimed Angel smelled like slight musk and eclair filling when he was horny. His sensitive cat nose could always tell when Angel was in heat. 

Husk's rough tongue was hard on his delicate skin, so they couldn't do oral too frequently. One time, he'd actually started bleeding from the sandpapery texture, and Husk kissed the wound, licking up the blood.

"Y'know the only thing that could make this pussy better?" Husk had said.

"What?"

"If you got a period every month."

"Do you realize how much of a bitch I'd be?"

"I don't care. You'd taste amazing."

"Ew."

"Like a nice, rare steak." He nipped the inside of Angel's thigh. "All dripping and juicy."

"You're fuckin' disgusting. My stomach actually hurts."

"I can't help it. Cats  _ are _ carnivores, y'know." He sucked at the little abrasion again. His pupils were huge. Damn, the taste of blood really did drive him crazy…

"Good kitty."

Valentino paused. "You say something?"

"I - no, hm?"

"Alright. I'm going in, baby, you ready for this cock?"

"Fuck, yes." He covered his mouth with two hands as Val entered him; having both holes filled felt amazing, especially as he teased his own prostate, but Val hated his little spider noises, so he couldn't cry out. They set off his roach instincts.

Husk always loved his raw sounds, he even purposely did weird shit to draw new ones out. He'd make him screech, squeal, and hiss til his throat was sore.

Val was fucking him hard and fast, chittering, biting down on Angel's neck. This is what Angel liked, being on the receiving end of someone's undivided attention.

"Can I jack off, Daddy?"

"I don't give a shit," he panted. "But I'm not gonna stop just because you cum."

Angel always came first, anyway, so he might as well go for it. As a hand fingered his own ass, and Val fucked his pussy, Angel used his last three hands to play with his clit, balls, and cock. He felt full all the way up to his chest.

"Oh, fuck, Daddy." He was shaking already, legs kicking. "Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck!" _

"You like that?"

Angel preferred Husk's fat, textured dick, but Val's smooth one wasn't all bad.

"Of course, Daddy!"

They'd done this enough times that Val could tell Angel was close. "I'm serious, I'm not slowing down when you cum."

"Hm? Slow down?" He was lightheaded by now. "Please, please don't!"

"God, you're a cockslut. Make that movie star face for me."

"Oh, don't make me. It's stupid."

"It's hilarious."

Angel sighed and agreed, mostly just to keep Val from pausing. Begrudgingly, he crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out. It was the famous face he'd made in his first movie, when he'd been fucked by a group of demons. The stupid expression had been broadcast everywhere, plastered on posters, even on body pillows - ew!

Val chuckled and grabbed Angel by the thighs, abruptly changing his angle.

"Oh, fuck, Daddy, I'm gonna - Can I - ?"

"I don't give a shit."

Angel shuddered hard as he came around Val's cock. The roach didn't slow down as Angel's pussy pulsated around him, nor as his cum slicked both their bodies.

Angel used the thought of Husk to get him through the waves of orgasm. The sound of his growls as he pounded ruthlessly into him, the feeling of his weight on him, his soft little kisses…

"Fuck, Husky, that's good…" 

The climax plateaued away, and he laid back, focusing on the sensation of his hair curling from the sweat and hot breath. Val pulled out, and for a moment Angel thought he'd cum, too, but then there was a sharp pain. Val had slapped his pussy.

"What'd you just call me?"

"Fuck!"

Val spanked him again. That'd hurt bad enough on its own, but he'd just cum!

"Ow, Daddy, what'd I do?!"

"You come in here and beg for my cock, just to pretend I'm some other motherfucker?"

"I'm sorry, no, I just said that 'cause -"

Another slap. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." God, he was sensitive, those little smacks felt like being tazed on the clit!

Val sighed. "Y'know what I'd do if I met your real Daddy? Like, your actual father?"

"What?"

"I'd shake his hand. If he hadn't fucked you up so bad, I'd be a much poorer man." Without warning, he shoved two fingers into Angel, who squealed. "At least your sloppy little cunt looks good on camera. God knows it's useless in reality."

"I'm sorry, Daddy!"

"Shut up." He fingered Angel hard with two fingers, stimulating his clit with his thumb, and the spider couldn't help a second orgasm. Pathetic.

Val rolled off of Angel. "If you sleep in a guest room, be gone by the time I get up."

Angel stood, still trembling, and pulled his dress back on. It stuck to him due to the cum and sweat all over his body.

"Val?"

_ "What?!" _

"Thank you. I needed that."

The roach sighed, and once again reached into the bedside drawer. He passed Angel a baggie of his namesake.

"Get out of my house."

It was the wee hours of the morning by the time Angel managed to stumble through the hotel doors, still clutching the doggie bag he'd taken from the restaurant.

No lights were on, so he was surprised when the room was suddenly illuminated red. For a second he thought he'd overdosed in the limo, but he realized Alastor was behind the bar, and had turned to him, crimson eyes shining on him like a lighthouse.

"Hello, Angel Dust. You're certainly looking worse for wear!"

"Rough night."

Al let a laugh track go off. Either he thought Angel was being sardonic, or he actually found the spider's misery amusing.

"I'm going to bed." 

"Can't you spare a moment? I'd like to speak with you."

"Not really."

"Are you sure? Much depends on it." The usual bounce in his voice was gone now. Angel cautiously took a seat at the bar; he'd deal with Al if he had to, but he was too exhausted to stand.

"What is it?"

"I've had a simply marvelous idea, one I think you'd quite enjoy." 

"Probably not."

Alastor chuckled, for real this time. "Oh, you creepy-crawlies are always so suspicious. Relax, Angel Dust, I have nothing but your best interests at heart." He leaned forward. "Not to mention, a most symbiotic  _ deal." _


	4. Falling Apart

Husk tried. Husk tried to focus. He tried to focus on the self-righteous crime show he was streaming on his phone. He had the brightness turned up all the way, yet he still had to cup his hands. He had to cup his hands around the screen to see the characters. The stupid show was so poorly lit. 

But he couldn't focus. 

Why did he bother trying? He couldn't even think. He couldn't. He couldn't even string a sentence together.

Everything was quiet. Why was it so quiet? Everyone was off doing their own thing, and he was left manning the front desk. Everything was quiet. At the same time, though, it was deafening. Every time a pipe groaned, he wanted to punch a hole in the wall and rip out the plumbing. He hissed when a leaf, blowing in the breeze, tapped the window. 

Focus on the show. 

He couldn't filter anything out. His vision was drowning with the sight of every texture, every line of the wood grain bar counter, every thread of the couch cushions. He got nauseous looking at himself; the way each individual tuft of fur swayed as he moved gave him motion sickness.

At least the smells were neutralized, since he was at the bar. He'd opened a bottle of vodka under his nose just so it'd conceal the scents of the hotel; everyone's bodies, their colognes, the odors of their rooms, the food in the kitchen, Niffty's cleaning products. It never ended.

And he couldn't…He couldn't  _ focus. _

His ears were straining with the effort of processing every little noise.

And then there was a bang. He'd been shot, he felt his brains fly out, splatter on the wall, no, worse, he'd shot someone else, he'd shot someone's son, he'd shot someone's husband -

It was the front door. Vaggie and Charlie were coming home, they'd slammed the door open, and now they were letting in a horrifying cacophony of voices and traffic and outside sounds.

"Don't you people ever shut up?!" Husk snapped. 

Charlie and Vaggie had long since gotten used to the tough customers running around Hell, but being yelled at so loudly and with such genuine anger was still jarring. Charlie jumped and looked at her girlfriend, who rolled her eyes, handed her some grocery bags, and said, "Here, bring the fresh towels to the laundry room and find out where Niffty wants the new soaps."

"Um, are you sure…?"

"Yeah, of course. It's fine." She kissed Charlie's nose and sent her on her way. Then, she sat across the bar from Husk, whose wings spread out and scowl deepened.

"What's wrong, Husk?"

"The fuck do you think?"

"Yeah. That's gotta be rough." 

Throughout most of his life and all of his afterlife, Husk had never been stone sober for this long. It had been three months since he shot himself, three months since his last drink. 

"Is there anything we can do to make it easier on you?" Vaggie asked.

Husk leaned his elbows on the bar and buried his face in his paws. "I mean this in the least offensive way possible, but yeah: be quiet."

Vaggie took out her phone and opened her notes app. "Y'know, I'm gonna write that down."

"You can't remember one thing?"

"I have more questions."

Husk groaned. 

"Is there anything we can get you to help with the withdrawals? Something for the headaches, or mood swings?"

"Yeah, but you're not gonna like it."

"Try me."

"A fat fuckin' joint would help with all of it." He peeked out from his claws when he didn't receive a response. Holy shit, did Vaggie look thoughtful?

"Here's my concern."

Fuck, she was actually considering it.

"I'm worried that replacing one mood-altering substance with another is redundant and ultimately not helpful."

"I mean…Booze is straight poison, though, and  _ gives _ you headaches and dehydrates you and all that. Weed's, like…natural. Never debilitated me, not even in the sixties." Husk almost chuckled at the memories. Then, he almost cried.

"I'll talk to Charlie." She typed a bit on her phone. "Anything else?"

Husk didn't want to admit it, but he'd been thinking about what Alastor had said to him when he was in bed after shooting himself. He really was bored out of his mind, serving nobody and doing nothing behind the bar all day, for no reward.

"I think gettin' paid would help me not wanna smash all the shit back here."

"See, I've been thinking that!" She typed some more. "I'll tell Alastor… _ Husk would like to be compensated for his labor… _ Alright."

Vaggie and Husk had always gotten along, usually from across the room, shooting each other wry looks and raised eyebrows at everyone else's behavior. They were both seen as hotheaded and aggressive, and both believed that the perception was a misinterpretation, and they bonded over this.

"Thanks, kid."

Vaggie nodded and left. 

Angel groaned when the director called "Cut!" yet again. He removed his headphones and stepped away from the mic.

"What is it this time?!"

"You're saying the wrong fucking line again!"

"What is it?"

"The line is, 'Sign up for the premium subscription package, and you'll even get personalized letters from me.' You're saying, 'Subscribe to the premium package, and you'll even get personalized letters from me.'"

Angel blinked. "What's the difference?"

The director groaned, and Angel tried to conceal a smile. His mirth disappeared when the director said, "We'll do another take later. Val wants you."

Angel took the long way to Val's office, but it still felt much too short. He paused before knocking, but Val must've heard or smelled him at the door, because he called, "Get your ass in here."

Head hanging, Angel entered.

"Shut the door behind you."

He cringed at the click of the door in the frame.

"Lock it."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Have a seat."

"Is everything -?"

"You're fucking useless." As soon as Angel sat down, Val stood, so he could loom over the spider. He tossed a pile of papers into Angel's lap. "What the fuck are these?"

"I don't know."

"I'll tell you what they are. Shitty satisfaction surveys, incident reports from directors, emails from agents saying their actors never want to lay a hand on you again. What the fuck is your problem?!"

"I don't know, I haven't been acting any different!" A lie.

"Well, whatever you're doing isn't fucking working. You're costing me  _ money." _

"I'm sorry. I'm trying for you, Val, I wanna make you look good. I wanna keep working here." Lies, lies, and more lies. And he knew how much Val hated a spineless beggar.

"Do you even realize how fucking pathetic you are?"

"Yes, Val. I'm sorry."

Val looked away in disgust. "I'm really starting to wonder why the fuck I keep you around."

"Don't say that. Please. I need you."

"I don't care about you or your needs. What matters is whether  _ I _ need  _ you, _ and since you haven't generated a dollar in months, I'm really starting to doubt it."

Angel fell to his knees. "Val, c'mon, you can't just get rid of me after all this time, all we've been through! Please, Daddy, I need you!"

Val swung his arm, knocking papers, pens, a stapler, and even his computer mouse off the desk and onto Angel.

"Ow!"

"You're pretty when you're desperate. That little trait is gonna come in handy when I start bringing buyers in here to look at you."

Angel's eyes widened. "You wouldn't. You couldn't give me up!"

"Like you're some prize." Angel's fate had rested in his reaction to this conversation, and seeing him whimper and plead like a little bitch sealed the deal. The kid was a bitch to customers and a moaning little worm behind the scenes. Useless.

It was a shame. He'd been good at this, before he'd broken.

"Get the fuck out."

"Val -"

"Go."

Weeping into two hands, Angel fled. As soon as he was out the door, the tears disappeared in favor of a grin, and he took out his phone and dialed.

Husk was doing dishes - they'd actually had a few customers today - behind the bar when he heard the sound of radio static approaching. His cat ears were more sensitive than most, so Alastor didn't realize Husk had heard.

"What do you want, Al?"

He missed a beat, but recovered quickly. "It's come to my attention that you're entitled to significant financial compensation."

Husk shut the sink and turned around. "I don't know about  _ significant _ ."

"Suffice to say, this is more significant than nothing!" He slid Husk a check. "My initial hesitation was due to the old adage: 'Never do business with friends.' Are you familiar with that rule of thumb?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it." He glanced at the check. Not bad.

"You must promise not to treat me anymore like a boss than you already do, Husker. Agreed?"

"Sure. Whatever you want." He picked up the check and pocketed it. Between this and his tips, he was about to have a damn good night.

He closed the bar right on time - and not a minute later - and practically ran to the casino. He didn't actually go in at first, instead heading to the alley behind the building where someone was surely doing a drug deal.

Lucky for him, it was his usual guy.

"Husk? It's been a goddamn minute!"

"I haven't had cash."

The man took out a baggie of white powder. "Y'know what they say about cash?"

"It's just blow that ain't born yet."

The coke up his muzzle heightened his senses, but not like being sober did. When he was sober, everything jumped out at him, demanded his attention, wreaked havoc on him with chaos and ugliness. Coke made everything sparkly, and the world was a sensory smorgasbord from which to choose. He was jittery, but at least he could focus on a coherent thought. Granted, he focused a bit  _ too _ much, but that was better than floating in the clouds.

The inside of the casino was dimly lit, but his kitty eyes saw everything clearly. He saw every cheating hand, every prostitute's real roots, every glitch in a man's poker face. He was powerful.

He lost his whole check, but for a minute there, yeah, he was powerful. 

Hours later, he was stumbling outside - the sparkle was wearing off by now - into the cold darkness. Every other loser was heading home with their girls, while he was alone.

Until there was a tap on his shoulder. It was a voluptuous woman, short, but round in all the right places. His favorite thing about her was her hair and face. The choppy blonde do, bright pink iris, sharp teeth, damn she looked familiar.

"You look lonely, sweetheart."

Husk handed her the last of the cash in his pocket. "That enough?"

"Shit, yeah, this'll getcha all the holes!"

"Do you mind if I pretend you're someone else?"

"I don't give a fuck."

They went back to the hotel. The cocaine made him go limp a few times, and he didn't end up cumming in the end, but he gave the hooker the bed and slept on his little patched-up armchair anyway. It wasn't her fault. Least he could do was give her a safe place to crash.

Angel had had a much less interesting night. It was early morning, so the hotel was boring and silent. The bar wasn't even open yet. He was waiting for Alastor, hoping to discuss some intricacies of their plan, mindlessly playing on his phone to pass the time.

Imagine his surprise when his best friend came up from the basement door, beside the bar.

"Cherri?"

The basement was Husk's room.

"Angie?!"

That bitch.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"I had a customer here klast night, some limp-dicked pussycat. What about you?"

Angel stood. "I live here." Heels clicking, he sauntered over to Cherri and bent so they were face to face. "And that's _ my  _ limp-dicked pussycat."

Cherri didn't flinch. "Small world."

"Why're you on my turf, gorgeous? Shouldn't you know better?"

"How was I supposed to know he was your regular? It's not like he's got your name tattooed on his balls."

"You know damn well I've sent you pictures. And he ain't a regular, he's my  _ guy! _ Well, not really, but he  _ was!" _

"You didn’t send any of his face! Besides, he was on  _ me _ like white on rice, Angie. Maybe it's him you should be mad at."

The basement door creaked open, and both friends turned. Husk was in the doorframe, and judging by his eyes, he realized what was going on pretty quickly. He tried to slam the door shut, but Angel, in a rare show of his spider abilities, jumped to him and yanked the door wide open.

"Shoulda known a cat would like fish!"

"Uh…"

Cherri leaned around Angel. "'Fish' means 'woman with a vagina' in drag queen language."

"Oh."

Angel was seething. "So this is what you do, just go around and sleep with my friends right in my fucking face to get back at me?!"

"Hey, you fucked five guys in front of me, so don't gimme that -"

"That was  _ before _ our conversation!"

"During which you made it extremely clear that we were no longer anything!"

"Well you don't have to use my friends as cock warmers. Although I'm glad to see you're moving on so quickly!"

"I didn't know you knew each other!”

“Oh, bullshit!”

“Y'know the only reason I even gave her the time of day?" He leaned in and whispered. "She looks a fuckload like you."

Angel glanced at Cherri skeptically. "She's, like, three feet tall."

"Yeah, but in the dark, with the bright pink eyes and that weird, huge blonde wig -"

"That's her real hair!"

"Whatever. She looks a lot like you when you're in drag."

"So?!"

"So, I've graduated from cry-masturbating to pictures of you to paying women who resemble you for sex, and fucking their assholes while pretending they're you! Happy?"

"I…"

"Yeah, me neither. Welcome to Hell, babygirl."

Husk slammed the door behind him and locked it.

"So…What's the story, there?" asked Cherri.

"It's a long one."

Cherri stood on her tiptoes and put a hand on Angel's shoulder. "I wanna hear it. I haven't talked to you in months, Ang, what's going on with you?"

"If I tell you, can we get day drunk?"

"We  _ have to _ get day drunk." 

Angel dug around behind the bar for white wine, well aware he'd be reprimanded later but too emotionally confused to care. His and Alastor's plan was coming along, and he had no idea what his next move was going to be once it was over. He had too many choices, yet none at all. 

The only thing he knew was that he wanted Husk. He wished for the thousandth time he'd never sold his soul.

Two hours later, Angel was crying on his bed, hugging Cherri close. They'd gone through more wine than they could keep track of.

"I just... _ hate _ him!"

"Me too, he's an asshole!" Cherri patted Angel's fluffy hair.

"But I miss him so fucking much!"

"Of course you do, he's a great guy!"

_ "I know!" _ He sniffled and wiped his face on Cherri's breasts. "He's just…I don't know why I want him so bad. I've never wanted a guy like this, especially not one who felt the same way!"

"Well, Valentino took the guesswork out of it for you. You can't see this guy anymore. Just avoid him, you'll get over him!"

Angel scoffed. "Val doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

"What's that mean?"

"He doesn't control me."

"Angie…Don't fuck with him. Remember what happened last time?"

"This is different." He stared at the back of his hand. The pink heart pattern suited him, but secretly, he hated them. The hearts all over his body were Val's markings. From the back of his head, to his tits, to the tips of his toes, Valentino's hearts reminded him that he was owned.

"Angie -"

"I'm just worried about what comes next."

"What do you mean?"

"Once I get Val off my back, I really might try and go clean."

Cherri chose not to comment.

"I don't want Husk weighing me down. What if he can't stay sober?"

"Y'know, I'm never going clean. Are you gonna stop fucking with me once you start trying?"

"Of course not."

"Then why do you care what this guy does?"

"It's different when it's your  _ man. _ I need him to stay present and rational. We can't both be blitzed out, I need someone around to stop me. Keep me grounded."

"That's why you need Valentino. He's an asshole, but he takes care of you."

Angel's phone buzzed. He wiped his eyes and checked the screen. 

  
  


_ V: Meeting tomorrow 9am. Make yourself useful for once and BE THERE. Look good. _

"Yeah," said Angel. "He takes care of me."

Cherri stroked Angel's back. "It's gonna be okay. It's all gonna be okay."

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

There was an explosion outside, followed by gunshots, but neither of them noticed. The sounds were the typical symphony of Hell.

Husk absentmindedly shuffled his cards. The first few years after he died, he couldn't even turn the pages of a book with his claws, let alone do the card tricks that calmed him in life. It took practice, lots of it, and a splash of magic from Alastor, but now he could make those cards fly to and fro between his hands.

Being high didn't hurt, either. 

He had actually approached feeling  _ happy _ when Vaggie knocked on his door to deliver a baggie of green bud and some rolling paper. 

"Don't make me regret this," she'd said. Ordinarily, that tone would make him bristle, but there was something about Vaggie he related to.

"Don't worry about it," he'd replied. "I've got my vices, and weed ain't one. This is really gonna help my head." He'd begun to shut the door, but paused, and looked Vaggie in the eye. "Thanks, kid."

"You're welcome."

He was better with his claws than he used to be, but that rolling paper was still useless to him. Even if he managed to roll the joint, it'd be full of holes. He ran the weed through his grinder and packed a modest bowl. The pipe was red and black, in the shape of a little skull; a gift from Alastor for their semicentennial deal-anniversary.

Now, in a haze, he was seated behind the bar, practicing his magic tricks. Angel had always loved them. Said they contributed to his "GILF-factor." 

A drink would really hit the spot right now. Maybe an ice cold rum and coke, fizzy and pleasant. Or a scotch neat, smooth like butter. Or maybe even an Old Fashioned. Whiskey was his poison of choice, after all. 

His cravings were as strong as ever, but the joint took the jagged edge off. His tongue and belly practically ached for alcohol, his mind felt like a dry sponge without it, but his bones didn't feel like they were quaking anymore. It felt more like a strong want, now, than a need.

Cocaine had distracted him from sobriety, while marijuana muffled his desires. He liked weed a little better; when coke wore off, he was awake for hours to face the comedown, jittering and muttering to himself, but with weed, he could just nap. If he was sleeping, he didn't have to think about alcohol. 

He chuckled to himself. When he was alive, he used to refer to passing out drunk as "death practice."

Husk laid out his cards for a game of solitaire. Coke would have to be the next thing to go, and eventually gambling. But not for awhile, at least.

It had been three months and a day since his last drink, and he was proud of himself, though he was acutely aware of the fact that three months was nothing compared to the eternity ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of action in this one, but it's meant to show how Husk and Angel are dealing with the breakup and each other, and in Husk's case, sobriety. Next chapter is pretty juicy I promise ;p sorry i didn't upload for awhile ive been sick!  
> Any predictions about Al and Angel's super secret plan??? or what's gonna happen at Val's meeting?  
> tumblr/twitter/ig are all hippiehusk :)


	5. Sold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really busy lately but i didnt forget about this!!

"Turn it up," said Angel, lighting a joint. He was in the back of his limo, and one of his favorite stripping songs had come on. 

The driver obeyed his request, turning the volume up.

"More bass, too, c'mon," Angel giggled. "Blast this shit."

He opened the mini fridge and helped himself to a wine cooler. Sure, it was only 8:30 in the morning, but he wanted to be nice and calm for his big meeting. He could feel his brain shaking around in his skull due to the violent bassline.

Angel Dust downed what remained of his drink when they finally reached the studio, took a deep breath, and stepped out. He'd taken Val's orders: he looked damn good and he knew it. Eight inch heeled boots, golden minidress, with a plunging neckline, and a huge stole of plush black fur, almost as long as he was tall. He sauntered through the studio to show off. He wanted everyone to remember that he was the hottest motherfucker that had ever or would ever work there. 

He even arrived a few minutes early. When he got to Val's office, the roach was the only one there.

"Sit down, Angel Cakes," he said. "We need to talk."

Angel put on his best worried expression. "What is it, Daddy?"

"You know you haven't been up to par, lately."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm working on it, honest! Just look at me, now!" He gestured to his tits, tastefully barely covered.

"I believe you, baby, I really do, and I was gonna give you one more chance, but...Then I got a phone call."

There was a knock on the office door. Valentino's features cracked into his horrible grin.

"Come in." 

The door opened, and Angel felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up from the static.

"Good morning, all."

Valentino's smile widened. "Angel baby, why don't you greet our guest? This is a close personal rival of mine."

Angel stood and turned to the man who'd just entered.

"Pleasure to meet you, Angel Dust. I've heard so much about you! What a thrill to finally shake your hand!"

The man shook his hand with such vigor that his whole body was jerked to and fro.

Valentino stood to shake his guest's hand as well.

"Angel Dust, this is the Radio Demon. You've never heard of him - I made sure of that - but you're gonna get to know him real well. He's made me an offer I simply couldn't refuse."

Angel Dust looked back at Alastor. He had such a corny grin on his face. God, he was a shit actor. Angel did his best to look nervous.

"What's the offer?"

Val ignored him. "Alastor, why don't you have a seat? And Angel, keep him warm."

Oh, God. He sat on Alastor's lap, and the deer wrapped his arms around his waist. It felt unnatural. This must be what normal people felt like when their bosses sexually harassed them; with Val, it was all par for the course.  _ This, _ with  _ Alastor _ just felt wrong.

"Alastor is interested in you, Angel, and he's offered me more for you than you're really worth."

"Oh, don't sell him short, Valentino!" He hugged Angel closer. "You know how I love a good talkie, and a star of my own is a wonderful collector's item!"

"You're selling me," said Angel, willing tears into his eyes, "just like that? After everything we've been through?"

"Yup."

"Oh, don't be upset, dear," said Alastor, wiping a tear away from Angel's cheek. "I'll behave."

Angel shifted in his seat. Maybe Alastor wasn't so bad at this after all. He had a pretty good fake-lecherous tone.

“Val…”

“Shut up, Angel cakes, you’re not talking me out of this. Besides, I’ve already accepted Alastors side of the deal, so there’s no way I could stop this even if I wanted to. Which I absolutely don’t.”

“But  _ him, _ of all people?!” Angel pretended to shrink away from Alastor’s creepy, leering grin. “Val, there’s gotta be somebody else! Please!”

Valentino chuckled, savoring Angel’s suffering. “What’s done is done, sweetheart. Now, Alastor, I believe there’s one more thing to do.”

“Indeed!” He held Angel to his chest with one hand as he leaned forward and extended the other. Anyone but Angel wouldn’t have noticed, but Val hesitated for a split second before reaching out and shaking the Radio Demon’s hand.

Angel’s vision went white, and he shuddered with a feeling of sublime pleasure, but it only lasted a moment. His soul passed through him, on his way from Val to Alastor, and for a second he experienced what it was like to have his body and soul combined, instead of existing as a shell of what he once was. 

He wanted that feeling, again. Needed it. He didn’t know how he’d functioned for so long without a taste of his soul, but now that he’d experienced it again, he’d do anything for it inside him. It was the ultimate high. 

It was the only thing he fucking wanted.

When he came to, Alastor was cupping his cheek, stroking it with a thumb.

“Wake up, darling,” he cooed.

“I... How long was I out?”

“Only a minute. Come, my sweet, let’s go home. Your new home, I mean!”

Valentino leaned back in his chair. “Remember, Al, if he puts up a fight, just tie him up, and he’ll go limp eventually. He’s a good servant, once you break his will.”

Angel thought he saw Alastor’s smile flicker at that, but he must be mistaken.

Alastor put an arm around him, helping him stand in his weakened state, and held him close to his body before teleporting them back to the hotel. They landed in a room that Angel had never seen before, and Angel realized it must be Alastor’s study. The Radio Demon snapped, and a fire roared in the grate. He guided Angel to an armchair and sat him down.

“Well, my dear, that was quite the performance. We really duped him!”

Angel only nodded. He was exhausted from his soul travelling. He’d forgotten just how much it took out of him.

“Do you feel any different?”

“Besides exhausted? Not much.”

“Oh, you will. Think how often you deprive yourself of things, because that disgusting roach won’t approve!” When Angel didn’t move his gaze from the floor, Alastor knelt in front of him, forcing eye contact. “Things like dancing, or going out. Or fine clothes. Or  _ Husker.” _

He felt numb. Valentino...had no power, now. It seemed ridiculous. He looked down at his hands to avoid Alastor, and noticed the pink hearts were gone, in favor of pure white.

“What the…?”

He looked down his dress. No pink on his fluff, either.

“Certainly you didn’t think I’d let Valentino’s marks stay?”

“I never really thought about it…I’m unprotected, now!”

“Oh, not quite. Check the back of your head.”

Angel took out his phone and snapped a photo. Where there used to be a heart, there was now a crimson skull, missing its lower jaw.

“That’s the Death’s Head, Angel. Are you familiar with it?” 

He shook his head, enamored by the photo.

“It dates back to Elizabethan England. An emblem of drug dealers, prostitutes, and the like; generally morally loose characters.”   
It was beautiful, like blood on snow.

“I’m sorry to postpone your redemption, but I will need a few favors before I return your soul to you. Nothing more than we discussed, of course. Unless…” His grin was definitely less mirthful, now. He was barely smiling at all. Angel couldn’t believe the sight. “Valentino’s comments, about you putting up a fight…?”

“What about ‘em? He’s gross.”

“If you’re willing to put off your redemption further than three agreed-upon timeframe, you could watch his downfall. He’s never been more than a pest to me, but for you, I’ll destroy him. I’d have to bide my time, though, and work carefully.”

“Why do you even care about what he did to me? I’m just another one of your little helpers, now.”

“Why? Well, for one thing, Valentino is scum, I just never realized the magnitude of his abuses. But most of all, I must admit, I care because Husker cares about you. Simple as that.”

“Y’know, if you bought me for Husk, there’s a pretty good chance you’re gonna be disappointed. Giving him another chance was nowhere in our deal.”

“I’m well aware.” He stood to his full height and turned to face the fireplace. “I wouldn’t force you into something of that nature.”

“Then why -”

“Husk has proven himself immensely valuable to me in a multitude of ways. And Husk loves you. The least I could do as his friend is remove one of the obstacles that had been keeping you two apart.” He turned back to Angel. His smile was back at its full capacity. “Now, why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? You’ve had a busy morning.”

Angel went upstairs and nestled under the covers. He felt like an actual spider, defenseless, just waiting to be crushed. Despite the fact that Alastor's protection far outweighed Valentino's, he couldn't help but feel as though he was completely alone, vulnerable and without an alliance. 

He stayed there all day. After discarding his phone into his bedside drawer, drawing the curtains tight, and changing into his pajamas, he simply laid there watching TV, absentmindedly spinning thin webs. He'd planned on staying there for awhile and holing up, but he'd forgotten one very important factor. 

He was hungry. 

Why had he skipped breakfast?!

For a long time, he tried to ignore it, but his stomach won out. With a grumbling belly, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt on to cover the Death's Head, and crept downstairs. The others would find out about his and Alastor's alliance eventually, but it didn't have to be soon. He'd wait awhile, maybe slip it into conversation casually.

In his life, Angel had gone to Catholic school. He was the Italian child of a prominent (yet only mildly successful) mob boss, so his parents figured it was just the thing to do. He did alright, mostly, but the one thing he could never get the hang of was moderation.

As he piled fried shrimp, leftover tomato sauce, and a generous amount of mozzarella and parmesan onto a footlong bun and slipped it into the oven to toast, he was reminded of his old principal. She'd been so determined to break him of his hedonistic urges, she even smacked his hands with a ruler more than once. Unbeknownst to her, the beatings awakened a kink that would follow Angel into the afterlife.

He smiled to himself as he watched the cheese melt. Sister Joseph - undoubtedly here in Hell, with him - would probably whip him into next week at the sight of such an exquisitely indulgent sandwich.

"What happened to you?"

Angel jumped. He'd have to get used to keeping his guard up.

He turned around. It was Husk.

"Well?"

"What do you mean? I'm just heating up some lunch."

Husk indicated toward his bare thighs. "Did you bleach your fur?"

Shit. Angel tried to pull his fluffy, knee high socks up higher, to no avail.

"Why're you staring at my legs, pervert?!"

"I was just wondering. Jesus." Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed a mug and started making himself a coffee. It was late afternoon now, but he was probably just waking up.

"Why do you even bother getting out of bed so late?"

Husk sighed. He had a headache. He could use a bourbon, or at least some Bailey's to make his coffee Irish.

"I was out til, like, nine in the morning."

"Drinking?"

"Nope. Alastor stuff." He yawned. "Squeezed a nap in, and now I gotta go follow up."

Angel stared at Husk. He couldn't help but feel like he was looking at his own future. As he took in the cat's appearance, he noticed a spot of red on his white toes.

"Is that…?"

Husk followed his gaze. "Ugh. Yeah." He got a rag and tried to wipe the spot away, but his back cracked loudly when he bent over.

"You okay?!"

"Slept funny." His face was crumpled in pain. "Guess I'll fuckin' leave it."

Against his better judgement, Angel approached Husk, took the rag, and wiped his foot off himself. Husk grumbled something, and when Angel looked up at him, his oversized hood fell an inch or two back, letting some hair escape.

"Your spots are gone!"

Angel pulled the hood on and tightened the drawstrings. 

"You're seein' shit."

"Angel…What's up?"

"It's Angel  _ Dust, _ pal, we're not on a first name basis." He stood to his full height and took a deep breath. Maybe telling everyone one by one wouldn't be so bad. After all, telling Husk should be the easiest of all. He had no vested interest in Angel's success at the hotel, especially now that they weren't together anymore. 

He sighed, pulled his hood off, and turned around, exposing the mark. Husk was quiet for a long time before whispering, "No."

"It's Alastor's mark."

"I know damn well what it is." He grabbed Angel's shoulder and whirled him around. "Are you fucking crazy?"

"I couldn't deal with Val anymore."

"You have no idea what you're in for. You don't even realize how good you had it with Valentino!"

"You don't know the first thing -"

"Angel Dust, he's evil. I love him, but he's down here for a reason! He's a manipulator, and he will cheat you however he fucking can. This was a mistake."

"Then why'd you sell yourself to him?!"

"I didn't think this shit was real! I was  _ alive _ when I sold my soul to Alastor. I thought it was a fuckin' joke!"

"It's a solid plan. Val had my soul for 73 years, Alastor's only gonna have it for that long, too. He basically rented me!"

"Oh, Angel!" He buried his face in his paws. "I already fucking know what he's gonna do."

"He told me he was gonna send me out for odd jobs." His eyes were glistening with tears. He felt so naive, now. Was Husk right?

"Oh, he is. He's gonna send you out - probably seducing people for blackmail or information - until you have so many enemies you can't even go outside without getting fuckin' berated. The only thing stopping you from getting kidnapped and tortured is that little skull."

"So?"

"And then, your 73 years will be up. You can't exactly work on your redemption  _ while _ you're running around, putting hits out on people and biting their dicks off, so you'll have to stay down here for awhile, if you decide to even bother trying Charlie's crackpot idea at that point. Only you'll be stuck down here without that skull."

"I'll just stay inside, at the hotel."

"Oh, fine. I'm sure you'll do great sitting around all day with no drugs or alcohol or sex, and I'm sure nobody down here has the brains to break in. That'll work out great!"

Angel was shaking. "So, what am I gonna do?!"

"When your 73 years runs out, you're gonna sell your soul for  _ eternity, _ just to avoid getting murdered or worse. If you can figure a way out of it, please, fucking take it."

Several moments of pregnant silence passed, before being interrupted by a creak. Angel hastily pulled his hood on, but it was just Alastor.

Shit, Alastor.

"My ears were burning."

Husk huffed and sipped his coffee. Al came up behind him and began scratching behind Husk's ears. 

"Angel, will you excuse us?"

He didn't hesitate to scurry off.

Still stroking Husk's silky fur, Alastor asked, "Why are you filling Angel's head with such dreadful ideas? Haven't I been good to you?"

"He doesn't know what he's getting into."

"He's a big boy, Husker."

"He's delicate."

"No, my sweet, you're thinking of yourself. That's why you're no longer useful to me."

"Are you fucking serious? After the shit I did last night, after the shit I'm about to do, I'm _ useless _ to you?!"

Alastor cupped Husk's face. "You don't do your duties with  _ feeling _ anymore. You're not built for Hell, and if you must be here, I prefer to have you tucked away, safe and stagnant."

"Fuck you."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Hm?"

Husk gave Alastor a sideways look. "Al…"

"Husker, believe it or not, I  _ do _ have a plan, and it's not the woefully crude one you prospected."

"How'd you even hear us? I would've smelled you at the door."

Alastor smiled. The radio in the corner of the room suddenly began playing a slow, jaunty jazz tune.

"Oh."

"I hate to hurt your feelings. You've been so obedient, my sweet, but I need someone new. Fresh."

"Did it have to be the one person I give a shit about? Really? Of all the souls down here, you had to buy the only one I don't fucking hate?"

"Like I said, darling, I have a plan. Do not question me."

"Somehow I don't -"

"Husk." Alastor was frowning, now. "Do  _ not _ question me. And Angel?"

There was a pause, and the door opened. Angel poked his head in.

"Yeah?"

"Be aware that I  _ know _ when you're eavesdropping. And be aware that if I don't want you to do so, I have many, many ways of getting you to go away. Now, both of you:  _ go away." _

Angel disappeared instantly, while Husk leisurely strode out the door. He made his way up to Angel's room and knocked on the door.

"It's me." He could hear frantic movement, and then Angel opened the door, red-faced and weeping.

"Husk…"

"I know." He desperately wanted to reach out, hold Angel close, get rid of all his fears and worries. "Al can be scary."

"Mm-hmm." He was shivering with the effort of holding back sobs.

"Could I…Maybe..."

Angel didn't have to hear the rest. He jumped the space between them, grabbing Husk and holding him close with a vice grip, loudly and shamelessly crying into the crook of his neck.

"Let's go inside, honey girl…" He held Angel, cradling him by the butt like a baby, and waddled inside. As gently as he could, he deposited Angel on his plush armchair. The moment he was out of Husk's arms, Angel reached out for him with four hands.

"Husky!"

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He retrieved a blanket from the bed and sat next to Angel, wrapping them in it. "You're alright."

Angel tangled his legs and arms around Husk, holding him as close as he possibly could. He'd forgotten how warm Husk always was.

"I can't do anything right," said Angel. "I just keep fucking up!"

"You're okay."

"You're the one who said -"

"I was just worried about you, honey, Al's not so bad. If we're being honest, I kinda like him. Sometimes."

"Husk, what am I gonna do?!" His voice cracked as he sobbed.

"You're gonna be okay. I'll help you, if you want."

"I can't do this alone."

"You can. You can do anything. But I won't make you do this by yourself."

"I need you."

"I'm right here." He tightened his grip, rocking Angel back and forth. "I have you."

"No." He sniffled hard. "I mean, I  _ need _ you."

Husk didn't answer.

"Husk, please."

"I…You're vulnerable."

"Then protect me."

"Angel Dust…"

Angel wiped his cheeks and planted a lingering kiss on Husk's neck.

"'Angel Dust'? What happened to 'honey girl'? And 'babydoll'? That's my favorite." He mouthed Husk's jaw.

"I…"

"Just call me 'babydoll,' kitty. Please, just once?"

He only had so much willpower. His claws were digging into Angel's arms as he breathed, "Babydoll, c'mon."

"Oh, fuck yes."

"No." He gently pushed Angel away. "I can't take it. I can't fuck you knowing I have to leave right after."

"Then don't leave. Stay, forever."

"What?"

"I want you back, Husky, please take me."

"You're just scared."

"Husk." He straddled Husk's lap and stared, eyes bloodshot from crying. "I know what I want."

Husk took a deep breath and considered. Angel was scared and vulnerable, but as Alastor had said before, he was a big boy. He knew what he wanted and when he wanted it, and wasn't likely to regret sex, especially with Husk. And if he didn't get it from Husk - who he knew, and trusted - he might try and find it in more unsavory places.

But Husk thought of himself. Could his heart take it? Could he fuck Angel again, as just a one night stand?

He knew the answer. It wasn't easy, but he knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger ;) what do u think husk should choose?


	6. In Which Angel Tries to Eat His Lunch

Husk took a deep breath before standing. 

"I need to go."

"Please don't!" He scrambled over and hugged Husk again. "We don't have to do anything, I'm sorry, just don't go!"

"Don't cry."

"I can't help it," he moaned. He really was a mess, barely holding himself upright. Husk sighed and picked him up once more, laying him down on the bed and sitting on the edge.

"Have you been eating?"

Angel's face was buried in his pillow, but he nodded. 

"You're super light."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Angel sat up and screeched, "Oh, shit!"

"What?!"

Angel darted out of the room. Husk followed, sluggish and reluctant. They went down to the kitchen, and when Angel threw the door open, clouds of black smoke billowed out.

"My sandwich!"

Angel snatched up some oven mitts, opened the oven door (releasing still more black smoke), grabbed the sandwich, and tossed it in the sink. Coughing up a storm, he turned on the faucet, while Husk turned on the fan over the stove and opened the window.

The smoke dissipated slowly. Still, Angel was much worse off than Husk, since he was taller. His eyes were redder than ever from the smoke instead of the crying, now, and he drooled a bit as he hacked up a lung. 

Husk hesitated before giving Angel a few pats on the back. After a moment, the coughing faded into laughter. 

"What's so funny?"

Angel flicked the blackened, charred remains of his gorgeous sandwich. A chunk crumbled off and disintegrated. 

"It's just so stupid!" He was doubled over laughing. "Look at it, it's so sad!"

Husk rolled his eyes and walked off while Angel dabbed his eyes with a wet rag. He didn't know why he found the death of a perfectly good sandwich so amusing, but he did.

He sat on the floor - his eyes were burning, and he needed clean air - and leaned back.

"Why am I fuckin' exhausted right now?"

"Emotions are tiring. That's why I avoided them," called Husk from the fridge.

"'Avoided'? Past tense?"

Husk came around to Angel's side of the counter with a big plate. Silently, he handed Angel the dish. 

"Is this -"

"Antipasto. I didn't wanna start up the oven again, so I figured cold was the way to go."

Angel stared at the food. Antipasto was his favorite snack, and Husk had even piled it just right: equal amounts provolone and meat, extra garlic-stuffed olives, a few black olives for good measure, and three artichoke hearts straight from the jar.

"Where'd you even get prosciutto? I haven't bought any lately."

"I may have taken up eating your favorite foods, to deal with…Y'know."

Angel took Husk by the paw and pulled him down beside him.

"Husk, I don't get you. You go around fucking girls who look like me, eating my food, listening to my music - yeah, I hear you at the bar in the middle of the night - but you won't take me back?"

"You don't want me back. You're just upset."

"I just…I need you. Don't you remember when Al set us up on that date?"

Husk licked his lips and nodded. Angel had looked so beautiful that night.

"Remember what I told you?"

"Remind me."

"I said you were gonna relapse, you're too mean, and I needed Val more than I needed you."

"Oh, yeah, I blocked that out."

"Shut up. You've been sober for months now, and you're _ nice _ when you're sober."

"I'm really not."

"You're grumpy and a pain in the ass, but it's cute, you're a little old man. When you're drunk you're just evil."

"I guess so."

"Mostly, though…Val's over. He's done. I don't need him to carry me. I can do that for myself."

"With Al."

"Yeah, with Al. But something tells me he's gonna give me a helluva lot more freedom than Valentino did. And if I remember correctly, doesn't he approve of us?"

"It's not that simple. You're right, I'm gonna fuckin' relapse, and drinking's the only thing I quit - I still gamble, do coke, everything the same as before!"

"We have a literal eternity to work that out, and nothing stopping us."

Husk paused. Throughout his life, he'd always felt the pressure of a ticking clock. He fretted constantly about wasting his life, and the stress of this irrational fear caused it to come true. When he realized he'd done nothing but drink and play his life away, he'd shot himself, and ended up here.

Here, the same paranoia followed him. But Angel was right. There was nothing in his way; Al encouraged the relationship, Angel wanted him back…The only person he needed on board now was himself.

"I don't know if I can do it."

"But you wanna try?"

Husk nodded, and Angel guided his face so they were looking at each other.

"Why don't you just try a kiss, Husky?"

"Promise me you're not starting something you can't finish."

"I promise."

Husk just stared for a moment, before grabbing Angel's face with both paws and kissing him hard.

"I missed you so much, Husky." He hugged the cat close, not breaking the kiss. "Promise you'll try and stay sober? And don't call me names again?"

"Promise."

"I'm sorry. For everything."

"Me, too."

Several hands ran through Husk's fur. How had he survived without those hands?!

"Let's take this upstairs, babydoll."

"I can't go that far." He stood and dragged Husk to the cupboard.

"You wanna fuck in here?!"

"Is that okay?" Two hands were already pulling his shorts down.

"Fine by me, I was just making sure!"

Angel rummaged around on the shelves before tossing Husk a bottle of olive oil, turning around, and bending over slightly, hands splayed out on the wall for support.

"Tear me up, kitty."

Husk snarled - a shiver ran down Angel's spine at the sound - and spread some of the oil on one of his fingers. Bending over Angel, he pressed into him as carefully as he could.

"Fuck, Husky, deeper, I can't tell you how many nights I stayed up missing this!"

"Me, too," he panted, working another finger in. "God, I fucking missed you."

Things were going great, and Husk had just slipped the head of his dick into Angel when the kitchen door opened.

Angel covered his mouth with his hands, rocking back to fuck himself on Husk's cock.

"What do we do?!" Husk whispered.

"I dunno. I don't care. Just don't fucking stop!" A few frustrated tears fell from Angel's eyes. Husk couldn't have that; he knew how he wanted his baby to feel, and blueballed was decidedly not on the list.

He grabbed Angel's hips - he had to pierce him with his claws to maintain a good grip, since his paws were slick with oil - held him steady, and pounded into him, fast.

Outside the door, Vaggie and Charlie were trying to figure out what had happened.

"I think this thing - whatever it is - got left in the oven too long," said Charlie.

_ "Way _ too long. I bet it was Angel. He's almost burned the place down tons of times."

Angel turned to Husk with an indignant look. To distract him from the voices, Husk tightened his grip. Pinpricks of blood rolled down Angel's legs.

"I dunno, it could've been Husk. I think this is mozzarella."

Angel stifled a laugh. Husk only sped up in response.

"Well, whoever did it is cleaning it up!"

"Niffty will do it. She likes to."

"No, if Husk is gonna walk around high, and Angel's gonna be tipsy on wine spritzers or whatever all the time, they need to be more careful!"

Static popped on the radio, and Alastor's voice said, _ "Ladies? Are you in the kitchen?" _

Vaggie approached the radio. "Yeah, someone tried to start a bonfire in here, by the looks of it!"

_ "Oh, that was me, darling! Silly old me! Niffty'll tidy it up, if you two will give her some room!" _

"You're telling me  _ you -" _

"Vaggie, c'mon," said Charlie, holding her hand. "If he's covering for someone, he's gotta have a good reason, right?"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," grumbled Vaggie, but she followed Charlie out of the room.

Angel turned around again. "I'm fucking close. I'm  _ so _ fucking close."

"I know, baby." Husk reached around and jacked Angel off as he fucked him. The slick sounds from the oil turned Angel on like crazy.

He came into Husk's paw, shuddering with the effort of keeping quiet, and staying upright. Those barbs always drew deep orgasms from the pit of his stomach, orgasms that radiated through his body.

Husk followed soon after, filling Angel's ass. 

When Husk stepped out of the closet for a rag, the radio started up again.

_ "Husker?" _

He jumped, and the fur on the back of his neck puffed out. 

"Jesus, what?!"

_ "You will  _ not _ leave that sordid little mess for Niffty; disinfect that pantry thoroughly, and throw away anything in the, er…" _

"Splash zone?"

His voice dripped with disgust as he confirmed,  _ "The splash zone." _

Angel peeked out from the pantry.

"How'd he know we were…?"

Husk chuckled. "You're gonna have to get used to that. Al knows everything."

Angel paused as he reached for an olive. That idea had thoroughly ruined his appetite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shortie :) kinda dialogue heavy but the next chapter is gonna have some action, as well as a juicy dinner party 🍑


	7. Dinner

"How do I look?" Angel emerged from the bathroom and twirled.

"Incredible," said Husk, eyeing the green, form-fitting dress Angel was wearing. "Very vintage; trying to appeal to his nostalgia?"

Angel nodded, adjusting the cape-like upper part of his dress. "It feels kinda nice wearing something that ain't skimpy. Leave a little something to the imagination and all that."

Husk pulled Angel in for a kiss. "I have a big imagination."

"And a big -"

"Come on, we're gonna be late."

Husk led Angel upstairs to Alastor's study. Angel took a deep breath and adjusted his wig. He'd been wearing wigs every day lately, to conceal his Death's Head from Charlie and Vaggie.

"I'm nervous."

"Good," said Husk. "That means you're smart." With that, he rapped on the door.

Angel was in Heaven, he was convinced. Husk had always said Alastor was a…What was it? 'Food snob'? Well, thank Christ he was!

Alastor had set up a small table in the middle of the room. The fireplace - the only light - was roaring, and the first course of antipasto salad, bruschetta, and tomato crostini was already set. It took every ounce of effort Angel had not to stuff himself on the appetizers; the only thing stopping him was the fact that if the first course was this good, the main course must be even better. Still, he was disappointed when Alastor stood and ripped the tablecloth away, causing the dishes and food to disappear.

Angel blinked in surprise. 

"Husker isn't the only magician around here," purred Alastor, replacing the tablecloth and heading to the fireplace. "I have quite a few tricks up my sleeve, myself."

He reached into the grate and pulled out a pot, a basket of bread, a bowl of seasoned olive oil, and an ice cold green bottle.

"Is that champagne?" asked Angel, as Alastor set the table.

"I'm afraid not, not in front of Husker."

"It's fine, Al."

"Nevertheless! Sparkling apple cider all around." He poured them each a glass, and raised his own. "I'm sure you two were wondering why I invited you here this evening. I'd like to celebrate. First, Angel, I'm proud to inform you that after a month of waiting, I finally have a mission for you."

A gnawing feeling rose in his stomach. "Oh?"

"I'll give you more details later. Don't look so nervous; it's nothing you can't handle!" 

"Yeah, okay…Er, thanks?"

Alastor nodded and turned to Husk. "Secondly -"

"A mission for me, too?"

"Oh, Husker, quite the opposite! The second purpose of this dinner is to celebrate your retirement."

Suddenly, the roaring fire went out. Angel jumped at the loud  _ whoosh _ of the flame's disappearance. 

"My what?" Husk growled. 

"Your retirement!"

Husk cleared his throat - one of his many, as Angel put it, 'old guy noises' - and leaned back in his chair before speaking. 

"Al, don't try and get fancy."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You pulled one over on Valentino, landing Angel. My assignment a few weeks back was…Successful, let's just say that. You're on a roll, I get it, but you're not gonna get me to retire." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and smacked the box against his paw a few times, before lighting one, taking a drag, and sighing. "I suggest you stop trying."

The whole room felt frozen in time. Angel couldn't bring himself to look up at Alastor until he set his champagne glass down with a  _ clink. _ He regretted it the moment he peeked. 

Alastor's smile was completely gone, and he looked freaky without it.

He leaned forward, nearly nose to nose with Husk, still unbothered.

"Have you forgotten the terms of our deal, Husker?"

"Nope."

"Then you remember that you're not permitted to question me, lest you face my wrath?"

Husk plucked the cigarette from his mouth and leaned forward so their noses touched.

"Make my day."

"Oh, you want a taste, kitty?"

"Please."

A high pitched screech sounded, and the room filled with static, popping and fuzzy.

"Angel," said Alastor, grinning, "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us for a moment!" 

Angel scrambled up from his seat. Alastor's voice had turned mechanical and monstrous, and he wanted no part of it. With a wave of his hand, Alastor sat Angel back down.

"Stay, darling. Husker and I will step out." 

Black smoke began tumbling from the chimney, and swirled around Husk and Alastor in streams.

Husk finally had the decency to look frightened when his chair began floating, and he was engulfed in the smoke. Before he knew it, he and Alastor were in the air, trapped in a roaring tornado, illuminated red by Alastor's gaze. He gripped his chair hard, trying not to fall.

"Al, what the fuck?!"

"How  _ dare _ you question me, and in front of a new soul?!" His voice was filtered through so many layers of radio interference, Husk could barely understand him.

"Al, calm down!"

"All you do is undermine my authority, shirk your responsibilities, and drink! And then you wonder why I'm retiring you? You're useless to me!"

"What the fuck are you talking about? All I've ever done is work my fucking ass off for you!"

"Oh, you have no idea how many times you've failed me. I've been lenient with you for too long."

"Al, what?!"

"You will no longer be working under me, what don't you understand?"

"Under you…? Al, you always said we worked together, what's with you right now?!"

The whirling tornado didn't stop, but Al looked a bit calmer. "Husker, you're not who you used to be. I need you to be decent about this."

"But  _ why?!" _

"Again, you're questioning me!"

"Yeah, I am, Al, 'cause this is bullshit. Be straight with me, what's up?" The chair jolted again, and he held on tighter.

Alastor couldn't help but stare at Husk, the pathetic shivering mess he was. 

"Husker, you've worked loyally for nearly fifty years. You've done your duty to me…Focus on your redemption. Your sobriety."

"I can still -"

"You can hardly go to heaven while working for me, my darling, surely you know that. There's nothing I need from you I can't get from the others, and especially now that I have Angel."

"But he wants to be redeemed, too, Al, and he actually has a chance!"

"And you don't?"

"Honestly? No."

Al stepped forward and held Husk' s face in his hands. His red hair was whipping around, contrasting his calm expression. When he spoke, it was with his natural voice; even his fake accent was gone, replaced with his New Orleans drawl.

"Husker, you hate working, anyway. Why won't you accept this?"

"Because I want the real reason."

"You're not entitled to that information."

Husk glared up at him. "I knew you weren't shit from the moment I laid eyes on you that day."

"I knew you were great. I knew what you could be. When you finally died and joined me again, I'd already risen to power, but without you, I never would have maintained it."

"Then fuckin'  _ why -?" _

"Fine." He took a deep breath. "After the cleanse, there's a meeting." The tornado slowed, though they remained suspended in midair. Alastor shut his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts, plunging them into darkness until he opened them again. "There's a meeting every year, between Overlords. We discuss territory, treaties, everything under to do with business. And this year, someone…Made a comment."

"What, they said I'm too old? Can't do my job, or whatever the fuck?"

"Not exactly. Someone referred to you as my 'little friend.' And everyone else knew exactly who he was talking about."

"So?"

Alastor combed his fingers through Husk's mutton chops. "If I found out one of my rivals had a dear friend, what would I have you do, Husker?"

"...Oh."

"Exactly. The last thing I want is one of  _ their _ little pets coming after mine."

"Do a spell, a protection spell."

"I want you  _ redeemed." _

"Well, I'm gonna be around another seventy or so years anyway, since I'm not going anywhere without Angel."

Alastor's grip tightened. "Don't wait for him. I'll make sure he gets to you; I'll even shake your hand on that, call it a deal! I just need you gone."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Alastor was becoming frazzled from maintaining a conversation as well as the alternate realm. Good; he was becoming loose-lipped.

"Come on, Alastor, why do you want me gone, you're sick of me?"

Alastor pulled him close. "You stupid fool. Sick of you!" He chuckled maniacally. "I  _ wish  _ I were sick of you! From the moment we met that day, I knew I had to have you!"

"But you didn't kill me."

"Oh no! I wanted to, but I knew there was a Hell, and that I could have you for an eternity if I restrained myself in that moment!" Alastor was shaking with emotion, now. "But it has to end. The others know what you mean to me, you're a target. And then there's our little spider."

"Angel? What about him?"

"So many times, I thought about having you, but I held back, waiting for the perfect opportunity! Then  _ he _ came and threw himself at you and -" He flinched. He'd said too much. "And I'm happy, because he makes  _ you _ happy in ways I...can't provide. But I can't stand to watch it anymore."

Husk's eyes were wide and round as dinner plates. "Al, do you…Are you…?"

"I have territory to run, and your presence distracts me." He stood up straight and adjusted his collar. "Do as you're told, like a good boy."

"Al, are you in love with me?"

He took several calming breaths. "The only person I know I've ever loved is my mother. And none of the feelings I have for you resemble those. So, no, darling, I decidedly do not love you."

"What _ do _ you feel?"

"Obsessed. I want to kiss you, as I carve you like a turkey and taste you in the most intimate way. While you watch, of course."

"Uh…"

"But you have your spider to think about, now. I could handle not having you when you were sloppy drunk and all alone, but I'm afraid I can't watch you thrive. I can't be happy for you. I'm in Hell for a reason, after all. I'm not a very good friend."

"Al -"

"Are you going to retire quietly and redeem yourself as soon as possible, or do I need to forcibly extricate you from this hotel?"

Husk sat back, defeated. "I'll do whatever you want. You know that. I just wanted to know why."

"Well, now you do."

"You could erase my memory. Make me forget the whole thing."

"Oh, I have, before." He chuckled at Husk's shocked look. "Yes, I'm afraid this isn't the only time I've made that confession! But clearly it's necessary for you to remain aware, now, since you won't cooperate otherwise."

"Al -"

"Silence."

_ "Al -" _

"Husker," he purred, leaning down and cupping Husk's cheek. "Until you're redeemed, you belong to me. So, shut up."

Husk nodded.

Alastor brushed his thumb over Husk's lips. "You never were much good at cooperating."

Husk's vision went blurry, and he jolted as if he'd been electrocuted awake. He blinked and looked around. He was back in his chair, in the study. There was a strange, nasally noise, he couldn't quite hear it above the ringing in his ears from the wind.

"Husk?  _ Husk!" _

Oh. It was Angel.

"I…What?"

"Did you just have a stroke?!" He was gripping Husk hard by the shoulders.

"I think so."

Alastor chuckled as he picked up his apple cider again.

"Oh, Husker, you're fine!"

"I…I feel like…"

Angel shook him. "Don't do it again!"

"Do what?"

"You looked right at Alastor, then immediately, like, passed out!"

Great. He was dazed and dizzy, as he always was when Alastor pulled him into an alternate dimension. 

"How long was I out?"

"Only a couple seconds, but it was scary."

He looked up at Alastor, whose grin was back.

"I'm fine. I know what happened."

"Huh?"

Husk picked up his own glass and tapped it against Alastor's.

"To my retirement."

Alastor nodded, satisfied. His usual, painfully wide smile was replaced with a strangely shy little grin. He didn't make eye contact with either of the boys as he began doling out helpings of seafood stew. 

"Eat before it gets cold, darlings."

"Thanks," said Angel, accepting his bowl. "Are those mussels? Husk loves mussels, don't you, baby?"

Husk was staring into the empty fireplace with an intense glare. 

"Husky?"

There was a snap - Alastor - and flames erupted again, sparks flying. Husk jumped, snapped out of his reverie, and accepted his bowl of stew.

The two of them were being weird, and Angel didn't like it. He hated silence.

"Great stew, Al."

"You think so?"

"Of course. And even if I didn't, I wouldn't tell you."

Alastor chuckled. "Don't lie for my sake. I tried my hand at Italian cuisine tonight just to impress you."

"Well, it worked, I promise." He soaked up some sauce with a slice of bread. "This is  _ crazy." _

"Eat up, you'll need your energy tomorrow."

"For what?"

"Your mission, my darling."

"It's  _ tomorrow?!" _

"Don't worry, it's nothing you can't handle."

"But I don't - What do I -"

"Angel Dust, we'll discuss it in the morning."

Angel went back to his dinner. He already knew not to defy Alastor, not with that tone.

The rest of the meal passed quietly and without incident. Angel couldn't help but notice the way Husk and Alastor looked at each other. Ever since Husk blacked out for a moment, they'd been giving each other strange, lingering looks. He wasn't a fan. 

When all was said and done, after dessert and cigars and coffee, Angel offered to help clean up, but Alastor simply waved his hand over the table, and the dishes disappeared.

"That's one way to do it."

"The  _ only _ way, Angel." He said Angel' s name, but he was staring at Husk.

Before the spider could respond, Husk spoke up.

"Well, I'm beat. We'd better go to bed, Al."

Alastor nodded.

"Thanks for dinner. And for…Everything."

"Of course, dearest. Sleep well."

Dozens of questions assaulted Angel as he laid beside Husk that night, listening to the thin cat snore. What happened to him, that second he blacked out? What was going on between him and Alastor? Why was he - the laziest person on the planet - so averse to the idea of retirement?

But by far the most pressing question: When Alastor first mentioned retiring, how had Husk made the fire go out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this raises some interesting questions about how Husk and Al met, and the extent of Husk's abilities 🤔  
> Any predictions about what Angel's mission will be?


	8. The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!! I had to really crunch to finish the semester, but I made it. Here's the calm before the storm...and just so you all know, this fic is going somewhere specific, it's not just "heres an event and another thing happens til i dont feel like writing anymore" (altho i love those fics), everything happening is planned and important. I kinda cant wait to finish this bc I have two veeery juicy multichapters lined up!!!

Angel tugged at the drawstrings of his hoodie as he stood in front of Al's study door. He was more nervous than he'd been in a long time; what if he fucked up the mission? With Val, he knew what the consequences would be, he'd get held down and punishment-fucked until he couldn't walk for days. Whatever. But now, for the first time in decades, he had a new boss, and facing the unknown was ten times worse than those violating memories.

He knocked quietly, hoping Alastor wouldn't hear it. But of course, the deer immediately invited him in. He was huddled over a pile of papers and books when Angel entered, smiling manically, but his expression fell when he turned and looked at the spider.

"What on Earth are you wearing?"

"Uh…" He looked down at his hoodie. "A sweatshirt? With a ramen stain?"

"I prefer my colleagues to dress in a more professional fashion than  _ that! _ Change and come back, if you please."

"What if I don't please?" At the sight of Alastor's face, he amended, "Joking, I'm just joking!"

A few minutes later, Angel returned, in a jacket, plus-fours, and a fedora to cover his marking. Alastor nodded and let him enter.

"Very nice. Have a seat, dear."

Since purchasing Angel's soul, Alastor had begun using terms of endearment on Angel just like he did with Husk. He didn't think he'd ever get used to hearing such soft words on Alastor's tongue.

He took his spot in the armchair across from Alastor. They were seated facing each other, in front of the fireplace, with a small card table between them. Appropriately, a battered old deck of cards was placed there.

"All those hands," said Alastor. "I assume you can shuffle?"

"Sure." His top set of hands remained crossed over his chest while his middle set went to work, effortlessly rearranging the deck. "So, what's my mission? And when?"

"This, right now."

He slid the deck in front of Alastor. "Cut it."

Al obeyed. 

"What're we doing? Are we waiting for someone?"

"Impatient, aren't we?" He nearly purred his words; being in his study rendered him calm, so he spoke quietly, without the transatlantic accent. "Your mission is here, with me. You'll be mastering a skill."

"Alright…What're we playing?" 

"Something quick. I want you on your toes."

"How about Slaps?"

"Explain."

"Oh, I was just - You wouldn't like it, I was just kidding." The idea of slapping the radio demon was  _ too _ appealing.

"Try me."

"Well, we each get half the deck, see, and we take turns putting down cards. When someone puts down a Jack, whoever slaps it first gets the whole pile. The goal's to win all the cards."

"Perfect." He could deal instantly, with a snap of his fingers, but he gestured for Angel to distribute all 52 cards by hand. "Tell me, Angel, where are you from?"

"When I was alive? New York." He gathered his half of the deck into a neat little pile. "You go first."

"Tell me more." Alastor laid down his first card. Two of clubs.

"Really?" He flipped a card. Five of diamonds. "Well, I was born there. We lived in the same house my whole life."

"Did you really?" Three of spades. "You seem like the type to move around a lot."

"No way. I never even left the island til the war." Five of clubs. 

Nine of hearts. "Where did you serve?"

"Poland." Eight of clubs, and Alastor laid down another card before he'd even let go of the eight.

"I never served. Did you like it?"

Two of diamonds, six of hearts. "It was a lot of anonymous sex and free PCP courtesy of Uncle Sam." Jack of hearts. "What's not to - oh!"

He'd just begun to reach for the pile when Alastor slapped it first. He laughed his evil little "Ah-ho-ho!" as he raked them toward himself.

"And I take the lead!"

"Don't brag. I was talking!"

"Exactly, boy." Seven of spades. "Keep going. Talk faster, and don't stop. Answer each and every question I ask in full detail."

"Okay."

"And do not stop playing. Whatever you do, play as fast as you can."

Ah. A lesson in concentration, huh?

Five of hearts. "Okay." They each laid down their cards at a furious pace as they spoke.

"You were telling me how much you enjoyed the war?"

"I coped. How'd you manage to avoid the draft?"

"I failed my psychological evaluation, but not for the reasons you'd think."

"Oh?"

Alastor huffed sassily, and flipped a piece of hair out of his face. "They  _ somehow _ got the idea that I was a flaming homosexual."

"I can see that! I can totally see it!" His mirth almost caused him not to notice the Jack of clubs he'd just put down. But he did notice, and slapped it before Alastor could, adding the pile to his hand.

"I'm surprised at you."

"What, that I won that one? I have great reflexes."

"I'm surprised you didn't rub it in, not even a little."

"Yeah, well. That's one thing Val taught me: move in silence, don't gloat. Distract your rival by talking about their enemy, so they don't even notice when they put down a Jack."

Alastor had just processed the sentence when Angel slapped the pile again, winning still more cards. 

Alastor's smile turned sly. He could work with this.

Overall, Angel excelled at their game. Alastor won in the end, but Angel put up a Hell of a fight. He really did have impeccable reflexes, and was a good listener, too; Whenever Alastor quizzed him on a topic they'd discussed earlier, he passed with flying colors. 

Alastor was surprised. He'd expected Angel to be a little slower, a little more bimbo-like. But then, he figured, who would have better listening skills or faster instincts than a prostitute? He felt no remorse for having underestimated Angel - after all, the spider had given him no reason to have high expectations - but he was relieved his purchase hadn't been a mistake. He might even prove to be a prudent investment.

Of course, every time Angel mentioned Husk it made his skin crawl, but that was his personal issue. 

Every time the jealousy crept up on him, he rationalized it away: first of all, with Angel around, going after Husk in any way was completely and totally off limits. He was crazy about his spider. Second, Husk absolutely  _ had _ to go, and soon. His safety was at risk since he was a target, but also, having a...a  _ friend, _ as disgusting as that word was, did significant damage to Alastor's reputation. Why bother being jealous over someone who would only be occupying this realm for, what, a few more decades? Third, jealousy represented a lack of self control. 

And Alastor was nothing if not disciplined.

"You've impressed me, today," Alastor said. "You may go."

"I still don't see how that was a mission, but thanks." Angel straightened his hat as he stood.

"It'll be a long time before I put you in the field. Your mission until then is to master the arts of discipline, patience, observation,  _ et cetera."  _

"Aw, c'mon Al. Not even a little tiny assassination? I used to do that shit for my dad all the time."

"Do as you're told, boy." He magicked the deck of cards into Angel's hands. "Play with Husker until next time we meet."

Angel winked. "Oh, I will."

Red hot anger. Alastor's stomach churned at that tone, but only for a moment. When Angel finally departed, he sat back and soothed himself with the knowledge that Angel knew  _ nothing _ about Husk, while he knew everything.  _ Everything… _

_ He was hunting, again. He was doing so more and more frequently lately, he couldn't help it, which was worrisome in and of itself, but no matter. _

_ Strolling down the street, watching worthless drunkards stumble out of their bars, no one was catching his eye tonight. It was summer in New Orleans, everyone was sweaty and disgusting. _

_ He was propositioned more than once - he should've known better than to wear his most flattering slacks for a hunt - but not by anyone appealing. _

_ Not until he saw…Him. _

_ Alastor hadn't heard a Yankee accent in so long, of course the sound of a man's voice shouting with one caught his attention. And when he laid eyes on the guy, that attention was undivided. _

_ Average height, golden brown eyes. Brown, nearly black hair already graying at the age of...Thirty two? Thirty three? Not fat, but certainly not thin: meaty arms, and a paunch, all of it covered in curly hair. _

_ But the most appealing thing about this man was his aggression. He had two guys bigger than he was pinned against the wall, wagging his finger at them in a drunken rage. Both men were too intimidated to move, likely due to the bulge at the front of his trousers. Was the man armed? _

_ "You think you can deal to the right and no one's gonna have a fucking problem with it?! Really? You kids these days, you're fuckin' -" _

_ Someone approached and attempted to diffuse the situation. Alastor couldn't hear what they were saying, but when the shorter man gestured too close to his target's face, he actually snapped his teeth. _

_ Yes, sir! _

_ The two guys he'd been berating in the first place had gone, and the man who'd almost been bitten had run away pathetically, so Alastor was alone with his prey by the time he reached him. _

_ "Hello, there." _

_ The guy glared at him. "What do  _ you _ want?" _

_ "Nothing you can't provide." _

_ He raised his eyebrows and glanced around nervously before leaning in. "You lookin'…?" _

_ "Come with me, I'll drive us back to my place. Do you have a prophylactic?" _

_ "Well, wait just a minute." He took a few steps deeper down the alley, where they wouldn't be seen, and Alastor followed like a stalking lion. "C'mere, at least lemme get a look at you...May I?" His hands were hovering above Alastor's shoulders. _

_ "Be my guest." _

_ He gripped Alastor's bony frame firmly, slowly turning him around and pulling him close. _

_ "Aren't you a pretty little thing?" _

_ "I like to think so." _

_ The man pushed himself against Alastor's backside. Titillating! _

_ "What kind is that?" _

_ "Hm?" _

_ Alastor wiggled his butt. "The gun. I can feel it." _

_ The man chuckled, though it resembled a growl more than anything else. "Aw, baby, that ain't a gun in my pocket. I'm just happy to see you." _

_ Alastor fairly blushed. "Let's go." _

_ "Husk." _

_ His head was pounding. _

_ "Husk." _

_ The back of his head felt like he'd been hit hard. It stung behind his eyes. _

_ "Wake up, Husk." _

_ Who was that? _

_ Something tickled his neck. He pried his eyes open and came face to face with…that guy. _

_ "Good morning, Husk." _

_ "Why're you callin' me that?" _

_ "That's all you said. I asked who you were, and you replied 'a husk of my former self.'" _

_ "Yeah, that sounds like me." He reached up to wipe his eyes and found he was handcuffed. "Oh, shit…We had some fun last night, huh?" _

_ "Not as much as we're about to have." _

_ It was then that Husk noticed the knife tracing gentle patterns on his neck. _

_ "Jesus!" He tried to scuttle away, but his feet were cuffed to the footposts. "Let me go.  _ Now."

_ Alastor's smile didn't waver at the sight of Husk's enraged look. _

_ "No, I don't think I will…" He pressed the knife against Husk's tender neck, drawing a thin red line of blood.  _

_ "Please, don't do this!" _

_ "Why not?" _

_ "Because I don't want you to?" _

_ "That's a shame…You should have considered that before you drew so much attention to yourself." When he rested the flat side of his knife against Husk's artery, it jumped along with his pulse. His heart was racing. "Calm down. You were going to die, eventually, anyway." _

_ "Not like this!" _

_ "How do you know?" _

_ Husk jerked against the cuffs, and shoved Alastor away. _

_ "You're a little bitch, you know that? What is this, baby's first murder?" _

_ "I beg your pardon?" _

_ "Oh, you fuckin' will. You're gonna burn in fucking Hell." _

_ "I don't really mind." _

_ "I'm not gonna do that thing you want me to do, I'm not gonna whimper, and scream for help, and beg you not to kill me. Fuck that!" The more he considered the situation, the more enraged he became. Who was this scrawny little fuck to tie him up, puppet him around? "What, do you think I'm some kinda fuckin' clown?!" _

_ He considered for a moment. "Maybe." _

_ Husk kicked his legs in rage. _

_ "How about this, my little husk of a man...I'll make you a deal." _

_ "Fuck you, I'm not doing your little song and dance!" _

_ Alastor produced a small key and undid all the cuffs. Sensing a trick, Husk sat up, but didn't move otherwise, and watched as Alastor stood in front of the door. _

_ "Now that they're unlocked, you're going to get out of this either way. Either we'll fight, I'll get a few good scratches in, maybe take an eye of yours before you'll overpower me and flee, or I'll let you go without hesitation. It's up to you." _

_ "And the catch?" _

_ "I'll let you go without a fight if you beg." _

_ "No way. And I've got a helluva hangover, so I'm not fightin' you, either. You'd better just fuckin' kill me." He flopped down on the bed and rolled over onto his stomach. If he was gonna die, he might as well die comfortably. _

_ Alastor blinked. He hadn't expected this, of all things. This man fascinated him at every turn; he couldn't tell whether he was intelligent beyond compare, or plain stupid. _

_ It would be easy to kill him - he'd lied about the outcome of that fight, he'd magic his way to victory if Husk tried to battle him - but that wasn't enough. _

_ For the first time, murder wasn't enough.  _

_ He discarded the blade and climbed back into bed. Husk didn't move. _

_ "I have another deal for you." _

_ "I don't care." _

_ "Sell me your soul." _

_ He scoffed. _

_ "Give me your soul, and I'll let you go - I'll have to erase your memory of this house, and my face, of course - and I'll even make you some breakfast to help with that hangover…" He toyed with Husk's greying hair. "What do white people eat? Potato pancakes? Bran?" _

_ "My soul's gonna cost a shitload more than that." _

_ "I could throw together some jambalaya? And beignets, with a French roast?" _

_ Husk turned and looked at Alastor. He then looked out the window, which had a lovely view of the bayou. That jambalaya would probably be the best thing he ever ate in his entire life. And besides, there was no God, no souls, no Hell. _

_ He extended his right hand toward Alastor. _

_ "You've got yourself a deal." _

The memory flashed before Alastor in a split second. He smiled to himself. Husk loved Angel, and he could live with that, as long as he had the memories. 

That little balloon-breasted bimbo didn't know a single thing about his lover. He couldn't provide anything close to what he could.

Angel was humming to himself as he bounced into his room, tossed his hat aside, and turned on the light.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a deep groan from the bed.

"Jesus! Husk?"

"Shut that light," the cat growled, pulling a pillow over his face.

"What're you doing in bed a'ready? It's the afternoon."

"Headache."

"Want me to roll ya one?"

Husk nodded. Angel changed from his vintage outfit to his robe and reading glasses and rolled a tight joint. He lit it, handed it to Husk, and as the cat smoked, Angel poured him a glass of water from the bedside pitcher, and gave him a healthy helping of his personal supply of dark chocolate.

Husk exhaled a long stream of smoke, coughing for several seconds before demanding, "I need a cup of coffee."

"No, sir. You'll get dehydrated."

"Fuck off."

"I'm gonna make you some nice chamomile tea."

"That shit's gross."

"It'll help you sleep."

"I can't sleep with this fuckin' headache!"

"That's what you need the tea for, my love."

"Don't talk back to me."

Angel looked down at him with wide eyes. "Who the fuck do you think you're talkin' to?"

"Well, enough with the stupid tea!"

"How about  _ you _ don't talk back to  _ me?" _

Husk didn't respond except to glare.

"That's better. You old guys are so damn ballsy."

"Sorry. It's my head."

"I know, my poor little kitten." He kissed Husk's forehead gently before leaving to make the tea.

Once he was out of Husk's sight, it took everything in him not to cry. The physical withdrawals from the alcohol had faded months ago, but Husk continued to claim they were the source of his migraines. Angel knew better. They were from his injury, when he - Angel shuddered at the memory - when he shot himself.

If he'd never given him the gun…More importantly, if he'd never suggested it, never encouraged it… 

Maybe the guilt wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't meant it. But he had. When he'd told Husk to kill himself, he wanted the cat in as much pain, emotional and physical, as possible. And he'd gotten what he wanted. Because of him, Husk had relived the very moments that got him sent here in the first place. How could he maintain a relationship with him now? What could he possibly do to make up for it? 

He sniffled and wiped a tear away.

For now, tea. It was the best he could do, and by God, he was gonna do it.

Vaggie was passing through the lobby when she heard humming. Angel was going up the stairs with a tray of tea and toast. Interesting, he was eating something besides candy. But something looked different. She squinted at him, scrutinizing from his slippers to his shoulders, until she noticed the back of his head.

"Angel Dust?"

The spider turned. 

"What the Hell is on your head?"

Alastor's smile didn't falter as he listened to Vaggie's ranting. She had called a meeting in the library between himself, herself, Charlie, and Angel to discuss the spider's new marking, and by extension, their alliance. At the moment, Vaggie was trying to convince Charlie to evict them both from the hotel.

"And even  _ besides _ the fact this is a huge breach of what little trust we even had in  _ him, _ " she sneered at the Radio Demon, "How is Angel supposed to be redeemed when he's working for one of the most powerful forces of evil in Hell?"

Charlie shrugged. 

"Exactly. And if he's not gonna be redeemed, he has no reason to take up room here. Especially since Alastor can put him up anywhere he wants."

"It's true," sighed Charlie. "Angel, you have no reason to stay with us."

Angel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, simply stared at Alastor, who gazed back, disinterested.

If he was Val, he'd speak up, tell the girls it was none of their concern and to fuck off. All with a protective arm wrapped around him...

Something moved behind Alastor. His shadow. It flitted to the side and spoke, but it was as if Angel was hearing the voice as a memory in his mind, not with his ears. 

"My dear," the shadow trilled, "If you're waiting for me to object, I'm afraid you'll be waiting a very long time."

Angel gave him a pleading look. With Val, he never had to stand up for himself. Sure, to Johns and freaks, but not to whoever he was staying with, and certainly never to an authority of any kind.

"If you're going to work for me, you'll need a far stiffer upper lip than this!" The shadow took its place behind Al again. Angel would never get used to this Voodoo shit.

"I…"

Charlie stood and sat with him on the couch. "Angel, why do you even want to stay if Alastor can provide for you?"

"Because I don’t just want a roof over my head. I  _ do _ want to be redeemed."

Vaggie huffed. "You should've thought of that before -" She stopped short when she noticed Charlie's expression.

"Go on, Angel. Vaggie isn’t mad at you, she just wants what's best for the hotel. None of us are judging you, I promise. Tell me the whole story: Why'd you give Alastor your soul if you want it to be saved?"

"I didn't  _ give _ it to him. He bought it from Val, or traded it or whatever. Val owned me forever, but Alastor only has me for seventy years. Not a second longer."

"Er, so what?"

"So, I'll spend the next seven decades getting clean and sober, and weaning off dick or whatever, so by the time our deal expires I'll be ready to go. The only bad stuff I'll do is Al's tasks. Not to mention, I gotta stay here and help…" He almost mentioned Husk, but stopped himself. "...You guys. We’re, eh, friend-adjacent, and I wanna help, I have so much free time now, I want some responsibility around here."

"Well, Angel, it's going to take more to save your soul than abstaining from your addictions. It's going to be hard work, and probably a lot of talking through your problems."

Angel nodded. "I wanna do that…" Again, he almost slipped. He almost said that since Husk had gone so long without a drink, he’d be needing some talk therapy for his trauma, and that it’d be Hell in and of itself to convince him to do it.

"Well then, I'm sure we have more than enough room to accommodate you til your soul is free. Right honey?" 

Vaggie nodded. She trusted that Angel wanted to be saved  _ now, _ but she doubted whether that desire would hold up once he actually had an offer of drugs or liquor or boys in front of him. And Alastor, she didn't trust one way or another. But Angel's story held up, and it made Charlie happy, so she conceded. She’d just have to keep an eye on the spider.

"So, can I go now?" 

"Of course! Sorry your tea's cold."

Though she had given him permission, he didn't move. He hadn’t actually been talking to Charlie. He was staring at the deer, who was paying him little attention as he gazed between the princess and her girlfriend.

"Alastor?"

He freshened his smile, breaking into his usual toothy grin. "Oh, you're free to go, my darling."

Angel didn't hesitate to get up that time. Whatever conversation was about to ensue between Al and the girls, well, fuck that.

He scurried to the kitchen and grabbed the kettle and some slices of bread, resolving to boil a fresh pot and toast the bread in the fireplace. 

His efforts to soothe Husk's mind and stomach were fruitless, he realized, when he finally got back up to his room to see the kitten had fallen asleep while he was gone. Great. 

Still shaking with nerves (and now, relief) from the meeting, he climbed into bed beside his boyfriend and burrowed in close. Damn, he was warm...And clean. When they'd dated before, he always had a layer of booze-stink about him, but now he smelled like warm tobacco, eucalyptus sage soap, and caramel. 

In his sleep, Husk cupped a wing around Angel and pulled him close. Now that his baby was back, he could let go, and really let himself dream. He always slept better with Angel there.

There was a candle on the bedside table. Lavender, to help Husk rest peacefully. Angel stared as the wick turned to char, and the purple wax became liquid in the glass holder.

Husk coughed and grumbled, still mostly asleep.

"Honey," Angel whispered. "Put that candle out. I don't wanna waste it."

Husk didn't open his eyes, uncurl his body, or even turn to face the candle. He flicked one of his ears, and the little flame was extinguished.

Magic didn't phase Angel anymore, but Husk doing it,  _ actual _ magic besides card tricks?! How had he been with him for months and never noticed...Or had the cat purposely hidden his abilities?

One thing he knew was that Husk was going to be a brick wall about this. If he hadn't told him about his powers before, he wasn't going to open up just because Angel asked. If he wanted an explanation, he'd have to find a way around his boyfriend's very nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy that peaceful moment because the next chapter is gonna knock your socks off


	9. My Boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: attempted sexual assault  
> More detailed warning (contains spoilers!!!): someone corners Angel Dust while he's impaired and tries to have sex with him against his will. He does not succeed. It isn't Husk.

Angel was trying to choose a perfume, but he couldn't concentrate. He was dressed to the nines in an elegant suit - pitch black, besides bloodred his gloves and bowtie - that Alastor had given him. He'd downplayed the masculinity with some red eyeshadow, eyeliner, and of course, red suede heels. All he needed to tie the look together was the perfect fragrance.

But he couldn't fucking concentrate. 

Judging by their conversation over cards, Angel thought he had plenty of time before Alastor gave him an  _ actual _ mission. He was sure he'd be able to waste at least a decade just chilling at the hotel, tending to Husk. Then, Alastor had to throw a monkey wrench into their plans.

Apparently there was some kind of Overlord dinner, nothing business-y, just cocktails and a casual meal at Rosie's place. Alastor usually brought Husk to these things, but of course the cat was now retired, so he was bringing Angel. Just a month after their card game. 

Angel stiffened when he felt a paw on his back.

"Shouldn't you be at the bar?" They'd actually been serving customers lately, and the hotel had a few residents besides Angel, now.

"It's one guy, and he'll live. Al's holding down the fort." Careful of his claws, Husk began massaging Angel's shoulders. "You look good."

Angel smirked and leaned into the kneading. "That's all you have to say? 'Good'?"

"I don't wanna get you all hot and bothered before your big night." 

"Then help me pick." He leaned back to give Husk a view into his cologne drawer.

Husk picked up a small, simple bottle, with a champagne-colored liquid inside. "This one's my favorite."

Angel smiled. It was a day fragrance, and the party didn't even start til 8, but to Hell with rules. He uncapped it and rolled it on each wrist, his neck, and under his chin.

Husk's purring wasn't audible, but Angel could feel him vibrating. Ugh, what he wouldn't give to stay home…

"Why so nervous?" Husk whispered, drawing circles on Angel's neck with his claw.

"I just…Don't wanna see him."

Husk nodded. He knew Angel meant Val, and to a lesser extent, Vox and Velvet, who had done nothing but further his humiliation.

"If it makes you feel any better, Valentino doesn't really go to shit like this. He mostly sticks to stuff he hosts himself."

Angel sighed and checked his pocket watch. 

"I'd better get downstairs and meet Alastor. And you better get back to work!" He nudged Husk's paws away. "We need your tips, now that I ain't workin' the camera."

Husk smirked "I _ know _ you need my tip."

"You make me sick." 

Alastor was behind the bar when they went downstairs, pretending he couldn't operate the beer tap and enraging Husk's customer more and more by the second. When he said he wanted the sinners to fail, he wasn't kidding. 

Husk intervened just as the crow demon looked ready to try and throttle Alastor. He reached around the radio demon and tugged on the tap. His body was cupping Al's, and it made the deer bloodthirsty, so he sidestepped away and regarded Angel. 

"Very nice!" he nodded. "I daresay we'll be the sharpest couple there." 

Angel grinned. Alastor's approval didn't give him quite the rush that Val's did, but it was pretty satisfying. Besides, Alastor himself was dressed in a snazzy, ruby colored tuxedo, and he looked damn handsome, so the compliment  _ was _ pretty titillating. 

Alastor held out an arm. 

"Shall we?"

Husk waved a paw. "Hold on, hold on! C'mere, Dusty, I've got something for you before you go!" 

Angel turned, and Husk planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Angel jumped when he got a static shock and pulled away.

"Mmm…Wait up for me, won't'cha, Daddy?"

"Of course."

When Angel turned back to Alastor, his smile was more of a sneer. Whatever, he wasn't known for his love of romance and affection. He took Alastor's arm, and with a sickening, violent spin, they teleported to the party.

"And then I said, 'Well, that's how the ball bounces!'" Angel leaned back in his seat and basked in the glow of everyone's laughter. The Overlords were mingling amongst each other, casually discussing agreements (well, more often  _ dis _ agreements), property, and general evil business. Their dates were mostly gathered in the living room, sipping cocktails, and Angel had successfully taken control of the room. He knew he shouldn't, he was here to observe, but if Alastor wanted himself a quiet, subtle sidekick, he shouldn't have purchased Angel fucking Dust. 

Man, these cocktails were  _ strong. _ One more couldn't hurt. 

A muscular incubus took Angel's arm and helped him to his feet. When Angel took a cigarette from his pocket, the demon lit it with the tip of his finger.

"Want another drink? I'll get it for you!"

He graciously declined; one thing he'd learned in his line of work was to always,  _ always _ oversee the preparation of his drinks, and never leave one unattended.

Sitting at the bar, alone for the first time all evening, Angel surveyed the room. He knew he was supposed to be gathering intelligence right now, but all that he'd managed to deduce was that the most important demons tended to gather around the fireplace.

That's where Alastor was, having a group conversation with a few other Overlords, including their hostess. And Val. 

He'd managed to remain steadfast in his refusal to make eye contact with the roach all night, but it was getting harder as he drank. The fact that Vox was running around, staring at him shamelessly - probably recording his every move - wasn't helping his confidence. 

"Old Fashioned, sir?" The bartender placed his fresh drink on a coaster. Angel flashed him a gorgeous smile.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He reached into his breast pocket and slipped the guy a tip, even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. He was just so darn cute.

Angel nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned and found himself face to face with Vox.

"Hell _ ooo," _ he said, in his horrible, tinny voice.

"Move," Angel sneered. Vox didn't budge. "You better get out of my way  _ nicely. _ Al hates it when I get upset."

"Oh yeah, Alastor!" As if he'd forgotten. "How's he for a master?"

"Better than you and Val combined."

"So that's your thing, huh? Being dommed by a scrawny little buck?"

Angel rolled his eyes, content to let Vox live with whatever lewd assumptions he'd made, and shoved past him.

"Oh, Angel?" 

Instinctively, Angel stopped. He suspected he'd regret it, but he turned around and faced the screen. His eyes burned from being so close to the bright, red light. 

"Whatever stupid thing you're gonna say, remember it's in your best interest not to piss me off," purred Angel. To his delight, Vox's smile actually fell. 

"Valentino just wants to know you're being taken care of."

"Bullshit. He doesn't give a flying fuck."

"He carried you for a long time, Angel Dust, so you'd better watch how you talk about him. Especially in a professional setting - you were never good at this stuff. I'm surprised you haven't passed out in the bathroom by now."

He stared into Vox's eyes. It was easy to get lost in the pixels. "I assume Val's watching this conversation?" 

"Mhm."

"Well, he can go fuck himself." He took a step closer, though he was careful with his body language, making sure no one else noticed this was an argument. "Go fuck yourself, Val. You hear that?"

Chest swelling with pride, Angel turned on his heel to saunter away, but got a faceful of fur. He looked up…Red eyes, unreadable through pink sunglasses, met his. Val's gold tooth glinted horribly when he grinned.

"Loud and clear, Angel baby."

Vox was still behind him. Sandwiched between his tormentors, Angel didn't know what to do. Suddenly, he was their toy again, unable to breathe or blink without their permission.

"If my boyfriend was here, you two -"

"Boyfriend?" Val chuckled. Angel shivered; he'd grown to hate Val's slimy voice, the way it slithered into his brain and settled there. He managed to shove past them and made his way back to where he'd been sitting. Despite the knowledge that Val couldn't do a damn thing to him, he was shaking. He couldn't believe he'd just done that, walked right away without permission! His insides felt like a hurricane, swirling and storming in his belly and chest. In short, he felt like shit.

He had cowered, he hadn't even managed a full sentence, and what he did say was merely an admission that he needed his boyfriend to defend him. And then he'd scurried off. Fuck. 

Val and Vox were lounging at the bar, smiling as they whispered to each other. Vile things, no doubt. Angel was no longer the life of the party, as he sat on the couch, glaring straight ahead at his enemies. Horrible images of everything he wanted to do to them flashed before his eyes, especially Val…choking him, punching him, kicking him straight in the balls, belittling him just like he'd done to Angel all those years. He wanted to strip him and degrade him. Crucify him. 

His fantasies were interrupted when Val got up from his seat and stalked off, not even giving Angel a second glance, smiling to himself. He didn't deserve to smile.

It was a bad idea, he knew Alastor didn't care for him on a personal level and wouldn't help if he got into mischief, but Val didn't know that. Val wouldn't lay a hand on him, for fear of Alastor. 

So, Angel got up and followed him.

He peeked around the corner where Val had disappeared. He was climbing the stairs. When he was out of sight again, Angel trotted up after him, tiptoeing so his heels wouldn't give him away like Val's were. 

A door closed, and Angel gingerly took a look. Indeed, Val had shut himself in one of the rooms off the hallway. Angel approached it, chugged the rest of his drink, and pressed the glass to the door, listening closely. He didn't have ears, so this method of eavesdropping wasn't particularly helpful, but he didn't care. It was how his father had taught him to listen in on private activities, and he was used to it. 

Judging by the slight echo of Val's heels, the room was a bathroom. He heard scraping, sniffling, and a small moan. The faucet ran for a few moments. Angel knew exactly what was going on in there.

When the water stopped, Angel stepped away from the door and fixed his hair, making sure to stand rigidly straight and confident. He was rewarded by Val's choked sound of surprise when he opened the door.

"Well, well, well," said Val, trying to play it cool. He looked Angel up and down and grinned. "Couldn't stay away, huh?"

Angel held out one of his hands. "Gimme some."

"Some what?"

"Some of whatever you just licked off that marble counter."

Val's expression soured, but he took a baggie from his pocket and held it high. 

"What's the magic word?"

Light as a feather, Angel jumped up and snatched the bag away, slipped past Val, and poured a helping onto the countertop.

"What is this?" Angel asked.

"Your favorite."

"Aw, how thoughtful. I think I'll keep the rest." He unbuttoned his collar and stowed the baggie in his fluff.

"Whatever."

"You can leave, now." Just the sight of angel dust was making him more bold. Val's presence was ruining it. He'd been trying to lay off the drugs lately, but he deserved it tonight. 

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then eat my asshole." He smeared some of the powder inside his lower lip. The sensation made him wanna melt; it was like the sweetest, most romantic kiss, only a million fucking times better. 

Val stepped back into the room and shut the door behind him. "Your wish is my command."

"Stop being fuckin' weird."

Val wrapped his arms around him and tugged at his belt. "Lemme eat your ass. Seriously."

Angel gazed at himself in the mirror. Everything was a little blurry, and he was nearly seeing double. Were the drugs working that fast? No, he'd just crossed over from tipsy to drunk. 

With one set of hands, he took a second helping of angel dust, and with another, he undid his pants and pulled them halfway down his thighs.

"Eat my ass with the knowledge that I hate your guts."

Val chuckled and knelt behind him. He started slow, licking Angel's ass in long strokes.

"I dunno what you're fuckin' chortling about. I hate you. I always did, y'know." His lips and tongue were tingling.

Val just hummed, wiggling the tip of his tongue against Angel's entrance.

"All those nights I slept next to you, reassured you…" Angel laughed, savoring his own gorgeous smile in the mirror. "I fucking hated you."

Val started to respond, but one of Angel's lower hands shoved him against his ass. 

"No talking, dickhead." He took his hand away. "You're free to eat me out or go, but enough fuckin' talking."

His heart pounded (sponsored in part by the PCP) and he tensed, expecting Val to flay him alive, but he didn't. He leaned back in and began working his tongue into Angel's hole. It was honestly boring.

"You've lost your touch, Big V."

Val reached up and pawed at Angel's groin, sure he must be lying, but Angel's pussy wasn't particularly wet, and his dick was limp. Not acceptable.

He grabbed Angel's delicate hips and spun him around, and took his legs on his shoulders, holding him up with his top set of hands. With the second set, he slipped a finger into Angel's ass, spat on his pussy, and used his tongue to penetrate him.

"A little better," Angel giggled. "Try harder."

Val snarled, fucking Angel with his tongue, rubbing his clit with a thumb.

Angel began toying with his cock, admiring the beautiful bathroom. The marble counter turned him on more than Val did, but hey, that's life.

Val pulled his tongue out, drawing a shudder from Angel, and sucked on his clit. This finally made Angel pause.

"Fucking shit…" Val hadn't given him oral in years, since it was such a one-sided act, and it was a damn shame. He was good when he wanted to be.

Val smiled up at him. "You like that?"

"What'd I tell you about talking?" He was leaning back against the wall, now, eyes drifting shut.

"Enough games." He nipped Angel's thigh, making him jump. "Who's your Daddy?"

"Not you."

"I -"

"You're boring me."

Instantly, he dove back in, flicking his tongue against Angel's clit. Fun, but nothing special. Angel slowly realized what it was: Val just wasn't interesting. His smooth tongue and hairless face were downright mundane compared to the spoiling he was used to. Husk's luxurious fur and rough tongue put Val to shame.

Angel's eyes snapped open. 

Fuck. 

_ Husk. _

He pushed Val away. "Fuck off. Enough."

"Excuse me?"

"This is stupid." Shit, shit,  _ shit! _

"You seem confused." Val rose to his full height and leaned in close. "I let you play at being in charge here because I figure Bambi doesn't give you a ton of confidence boosts. But one thing you're _ not _ gonna do is leave me unsatisfied."

Angel tried to shove past, but Val grabbed him by the hair.

"Didn't you learn  _ anything _ in seventy years?"

Fuck no.  _ Please _ no. He stayed limp while Val undid his own pants and got hard. He felt like a sack of shit. He'd literally forgotten Husk's entire fucking existence. Angel blinked up at the ceiling. Or was it the floor? Head spinning, he realized it was the mirror. 

He caught sight of Val, behind him, lining up to fuck him.

"Valentino, don't…"

"I love it when you say my name."

"Please don't."

"Why not? Your  _ boyfriend _ gonna come save you?"

His blood boiled. How could he give himself to Val again, after all he'd done to escape? This had started out willing, but he'd changed his mind thoroughly, and Val wasn't gonna get his dick wet without a fight. 

He turned around, face crumpled with rage.

"Get outta my way, Val."

"Honey, every time you pull a stunt like this, you lose. I know you were too drunk and high back then to remember, but you always put up a fight, and once the crocodile tears are over, you always lay back and accept it. Which is prudent, considering you have no choice."

"You don't know me."

"There's nothing to fucking know. You're an empty-headed, heartless little bimbo. You're only good for one thing…" He got close again, Angel could feel his big, ridged erection on his leg. Fear and disgust shot through him like a lightning bolt, and he held up his hands in defense. Something like an electric shock stung his fingertips, and Val flew back, slammed against the shower wall, and landed on his ass in the tub.

Angel stared at his hands for a second, then back at Val, who was struggling to his feet, chittering his evil roach noises. Angel wasted no time wondering what had just happened. He scurried out of the room, downstairs, and into the crowd once more. Adrenaline, alcohol, and PCP combined left him nearly blind, grabbing the walls for support, listening for Val's possible approach. 

A clawed hand grabbed his arm. Angel gasped and tugged away, turning to face his assailant, but it wasn't Val. He squinted, focusing on the blurry red mass in front of him, and realized it was Alastor.

"Angel? Are you alright?"

"I…" his crotch was still wet and tingling. He felt disgusting. 

"Are you ready to go?"

He nodded. "Please."

"Come on, then."

Angel somehow managed to say a graceful farewell to Rosie. Clinging to Alastor's arm, they stumbled onto the porch, savoring the fresh air. He was finally starting to see straight. 

Then he was spinning again, tumbling through the air, falling from a hundred stories high. He was about to vomit when he landed square on his rear end in the lobby of the hotel. 

"Angel Dust? Are you awake?"

Angel's stomach lurched. He opened his eyes, and even the dim lighting of the lobby made him nauseous. 

"What's goin' on…?" He slurred.

"I brought us back to the hotel, and you landed like a pile of bricks!"

"How long was I out?"

"Only a second or two."

"Help me up?"

"Of course!" He grasped one of Angel's hands and pulled him up on his long, wobbling legs. "Far be it from me not to help a lady in distress."

Angel focused on keeping the contents of his stomach calm as he and Alastor ascended the stairs. They could teleport up to Angel's room, but it'd more than likely make him pretty sick.

Angel fumbled for his key, but his hands were shaking badly, so Alastor simply magicked the door open.

Angel heard cursing, and felt warm paws on him. Husk.

"What the fuck happened?!"

He let himself collapse against Husk, hugging him with all of his hands. 

"Babydoll, are you okay?"

He hummed affirmatively. Husk and Alastor exchanged words he couldn't bring himself to focus on, before Husk shut the door, and gently led him to bed.

"I need you to be honest with me, baby. What're you on?"

Angel giggled. "I'm shitfaced."

"And?"

"And PCP. A lot of it."

"You smell."

"I'm drunk, I said that."

Husk needled at the sheets, looking nervous. Angel pet behind his ears, but it didn't help.

"You smell like sex, Angel."

Ah, shit…He hadn't decided if he was even going to tell Husk what had happened. Probably not. Now he was left without much of a choice.

Well, was he? It'd be easy to tell Husk he was just getting old, his sniffer was off, or even say, "Yeah, I jerked it in the bathroom."

Husk reached out, hesitant, and stroked Angel's hair.

"Please…"

Angel sighed. "Val was there."

"Shit."

"It was nothing."

"Nothing? How the fuck can you even say that, with all the history between you two? I thought the whole point of your alliance with Al was so you'd never have to see Valentino's fucking face again!"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"You got all pissed at me for doing your friend when we weren't even together - which was  _ your _ decision - and now you turn around and fuck  _ him,  _ of all people?"

"We didn't fuck. He ate me out for like five minutes, I only let him 'cause I was drunk as shit and he…" Angel covered his eyes with shame. "He's still got this hold on me. Being in a room with him means sex is gonna happen to me, simple as that. It's a seventy year old instinct."

Husk was still glowering, but he squinted with thought, now, rather than anger. "Wait a second. He didn't…He didn't force you, did he?"

Finally, the tears fell. Husk didn't hesitate to grab Angel and hug him close, whispering sweet reassurances. Angel wept for a long time, removing his layers of clothing as he went, so he could nestle comfortably under the covers. When he was finally coherent, he told Husk the whole story: how he'd initiated it, how he hadn't even considered Husk, how Val had tried to escalate things.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed.

"You're incredibly fucked up right now." Husk carefully peeled himself away from Angel. "You look like you need a midnight snack. Am I right?"

He wiped his tears with his blanket. "You're not mad?"

"We'll talk about everything tomorrow, babydoll. Do you think you can stomach a little food?"

Angel nodded, shaking. He needed something to absorb the liquor in his system.

After Husk left, Angel took a few minutes to calm down. He then lit several candles, as well as some incense, and ran himself a quick, scalding shower. He knew his face was probably puffy and disgusting, but he didn't care. He nuzzled under the blankets with Fat Nuggets once he was done, grateful he had the best, most understanding boyfriend in Hell.

Husk, meanwhile, sighed with relief when he left Angel's room, grateful that the spider was too fucked up to notice the alcohol on his breath. He stumbled down to the bar, took a couple shots of whiskey to get him through the night, washed out his mouth, and ate one of his tuna snack packs to mask the odor.

He cobbled together a meal for Angel, took a deep breath, and headed upstairs to continue the charade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👁👁👁👁 well????


End file.
